Sparks of Blue
by Scientist In Training
Summary: Seto Kaiba himself had long since resigned himself to the fact that he was beyond saving. Spending the rest of his life utilizing his talents for the good of his company would be the best way to make the most of what he'd been given. He certainly wasn't expecting to meet the white-haired girl of his dreams again, bringing forth feelings he'd promised himself he'd forgotten.
1. Chapter 1

_Crap, I'm already late._ Kisara frowned to herself, glancing down at the blinking display on her watch: 13:53. Hastening her pace, the half-full and rapidly cooling cup of coffee in her hand sloshed over her, dribbling down the sides of the cardboard cup and onto her pale blue blouse.

 _Great_. She hadn't had time to prepare for the project, either-she didn't even know her partner's name, other than the fact that his student account was ' _setok_ ' and that they had been randomly paired for their final project on data mining. She had begun picking up extra shifts to cover a hike in her rent, and it was somewhat of a wonder that she had managed to make it this far at all. _A couple more classes, and I'll be eligible to apply for graduate school in America,_ she reasoned to herself, shivering against the mid-winter cold. _Why does the bus stop have to be so far from the computer lab?_

At long last, the Domino University computer lab-an unassuming building that extended three floors into the dark underground-emerged at the edge of her vision from across the plaza. She frowned, pursing her lips to take a sip of coffee, wrinkling her nose in distaste as the already-cold beverage hit her tongue. _Waste of a good cup of coffee_ , she thought irritably, pausing for another sip before tossing the cup into a trash can. With her hands free, her pace quickened to a stiff, awkward jog, encumbered by the weight of the backpack slung hastily over one shoulder.

Although dreary and filled with a perpetual aura of student despair, the warmth of the computer science building was a welcome relief from the grey winter outside. Kisara's fingertips prickled as sensation began to slowly return, and she shivered, fishing through the pocket of her jeans for the scrap of paper onto which she had scribbled the details of the meeting place with her partner: _Room 1302, 14:00._ The blinking display on her watch already read 14:09, which sent a prickle of irritation through her scalp. She hated being late.

Thankfully room 1302 was on the ground floor of the building, tucked into an unassuming corner amongst the other rooms that could be reserved for students working on projects. Kisara paused in front of the door, setting her backpack down on the floor next to her and running her hand through her windblown hair. Both her hands and her hair still smelled slightly of coffee and vanilla from her opening shift this morning.

The door swung open before she could reach for it, revealing a tall, dark-haired figure standing maybe two feet away from her. Startling with surprise, Kisara stumbled over her backpack, and landed clumsily on the ground before she could regain her balance.

"You're Matsui." The person who had been inside the room stepped out, folding his arms over his chest. Wincing from the pain that lanced through her spine, Kisara straightened herself up to get a better look at the person who had inadvertently knocked her over.

The first thing she noticed were his eyes-large, wide, almond-shaped eyes in a bright and almost alarmingly blue color, framed by angular cheekbones and a fringe of dark-brown hair. He was tall and lanky, dressed in a charcoal-grey sweater and a pair of black jeans. Mostly, he looked like he could be anyone-tall, maybe, but nothing entirely out of the ordinary, and kind of handsome in an angular and clean cut sort of way-save for those _eyes_. She continued to stare at them, pressing her palms into the cold linoleum floor. The bright blue of his eyes was a color she had previously only seen in the glint of high-noon sunlight on the ocean.

He bent his knees slightly, extending one hand towards her. Still a little stunned, Kisara leaned forwards, grasping his hand, which felt large and warm against her clammy skin.

The boy stepped back, throwing his weight into an upwards tug, and Kisara hopped to her feet, dusting off her jeans.

"Thanks," she muttered. Heat surged through her cheeks, and she bowed her head awkwardly.

"Right." The boy's voice was deeper and huskier than she would have expected. Their eyes met for a moment before she glanced away, feeling her spine prickle uncomfortably.

"Kisara, by the way. Kisara Matsui." The swung the door open again, and she picked up her backpack, hustling into the room as he drew a chair.

The boy's eyebrows furrowed for a moment, and he swung open his laptop, casting his face in it's faint blue light. "I know."

Kisara was taken aback. "Um," she said,

The tilted his head and stared at her; Kisara was reminded strongly of a fox sizing up a potential threat. "Seto," he said finally.

"Seto…" Kisara prompted gently, expecting him to reveal a surname.

Seto lifted his chin, boring holes into her skull with those bright blue eyes over the top of his laptop screen. "Correct."

An awkward pause, punctuated only by the soft electronic humming of their respective computers, stretched between them. Seto's eyes were locked firmly ahead, and his mouth was drawn into a thin line. Kisara could practically feel her blood boiling in her cheeks under his laser-sharp stare. _What the hell is this guy's deal?_

"So-ah. Clustering algorithms." Kisara cursed herself inwardly for the way that her voice cracked as she timidly broke the silence.

As if nothing had happened, Seto nodded briskly, reaching into a black leather briefcase- _really, a_ briefcase _,_ Kisara thought to herself as she glanced at her own beat-up turquoise canvas backpack-and retrieved a notebook bound in black leather. "I was thinking we could do something with Duel Monsters data," he said, flipping to a page in his notebook and smoothing it out in front of him. "I'd like to do something by way of strategy prediction-mining deck composition and turn-by-turn sequences from famous Duelists, for starters."

From his icy and professional demeanor, Kisara couldn't have possibly imagined that the boy sitting in front of her would want to work on data mined from a playing card game; it was, in fact, humorous enough to make Kisara snort with surprise. "Duel Monsters?!" she asked incredulously. "As in, the card game?" She was familiar enough with the phenomenon-after all, during her high school years, it had been an enormous craze. She still happened upon people dueling with life-sized holograms on campus sometimes, and customers who would camp out and play many rounds of the game were common at her work. But still, she had always associated the game with younger and nerdier kids than Seto.

"You think it's a joke?" Seto demanded. His composed and icy demeanor was tinged with bitterness as he spat the words out.

 _Sheesh_. Kisara's eyes widened, and she raised her hand to her mouth to hide her amusement. "No," she said, not entirely sure she was being convincing.

The looked unconvinced, watching her with a slightly hostile, unimpressed gaze. Trapped again in his crosshairs, Kisara resisted her urge to squirm away and dropped her shoulders, meeting his gaze head-on. As she continued to stare, unblinking, she realized that he really _was_ very handsome-although his features were angular, his cheeks weren't as hollow as she had first thought, his nose was tall and symmetrical, and his hair was smooth and shiny. It was becoming hard to look away.

Something about the boy looked familiar-she couldn't put her finger on _what_ , exactly, but something about his face made her think that she had seen him before. She would have remembered those blue eyes anywhere, though-

"Oh!" A soft noise of surprise escaped Kisara's lips before she could shut them. _It was on television-yes, I remember now!_ Her pulse began to quicken as she recalled Seto-Kaiba, that was who he was, Seto _Kaiba_ -on every television during the finals of his own Battle City tournament.

"You know who I am, then." The shift in Seto's tone and expression was nearly imperceptible, but Kisara could tell that he was pleased to be recognized.

"K-Kaiba," Kisara stammered, feeling her jaw slacken with shock. "The CEO of Kaiba Corporation, the biggest employer in Domino City."

He nodded once, his eyes closing proudly for a moment. "That's correct."

Kisara could still feel blood roaring through her temples, and the walls around her seemed to spin. "What are you doing taking a class at Domino University?" she demanded incredulously.

Seto smirked. He had a handsome smirk, she had to admit, coy and smug at the same time. "I never _did_ get a formal degree, you know," he said coolly. "In my field, it can be quite difficult to make it without one."

"You're _Seto Kaiba_ ," Kisara pointed out.

"Which means I have even more of an obligation to keep on top of all the latest in new methods and technologies."

Kisara could feel her scalp prickle with embarrassment at how outclassed she felt by Seto. Dipping her head low, she muttered, half to herself, "Erm, right. Sorry." She could feel hot blood roaring through her temples, and her cheeks were boiling with embarrassment. If, by virtue of his crisply-poised good looks, towering stature, and intense stare, Seto wasn't intimidating enough, he was also the head of a company that Kisara knew most of her classmates would die for the opportunity to work for. Why, then, couldn't she seem to muster anything more than clumsy unease?

"You're intimidated by me." Seto's husky voice sliced through the awkward silence. Kisara's neck jerked up as if her head were attached to a string, and she blinked as the room spun dizzyingly around her.

"A bit." Kisara rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly, reaching into her backpack to retrieve her laptop. "I, um"-

"To be expected, of course." Seto smirked at her, leaning his elbow against the table and resting his chin against his cupped palm. The gesture, distinctly casual, caught Kisara off-guard.

"It's not a big deal, of course. The main purpose of this meeting was to"-Seto gently closed his laptop-"make sure you weren't the type of student that wouldn't be able to work with me."

Kisara's eyes narrowed with confusion. "What?"

Seto sighed, and Kisara gritted her teeth at the look of condescension on her work partner's face. "A lot of students would try to use this position as a collaborator with me to get ahead in their career," he said smoothly. "I assume you aren't trying to do that."

"Hey!" Kisara squeaked, feeling her warm cheeks puff out indignantly.

Seto retrieved his briefcase from the floor and put his laptop into it. "It's a fact, Matsui. If you were going to try to take advantage of me, you would have come"-he cocked his head, and his eyes drifted towards the ceiling-"prepared."

Kisara narrowed her eyes at him. "Well, so _-rry_ ," she snapped defensively. "But I came all this way to campus, and you just wanted to make sure that _I_ wasn't going to waste _your_ time?"

There was a distinct pause, and Kisara leaned back in her chair, triumphant that she had finally managed to get a word in edgewise.

"Well, what do you have, then, Matsui?" Seto asked.

 _Crap._ Kisara drummed her fingers against the tabletop, desperately wracking her brain for any ideas, but her creativity was mired in opening-shift drowsiness and the inevitable sugar crash resulting from drinking a mocha for lunch.

The screeching sound of chair legs against the linoleum interrupted Kisara's train of thought. "Very well, then." Seto stood up, nodding slightly to her. "You'll do, I suppose, Matsui."

Kisara could feel her eyes begin to roll before she could stop them. "Call me Kisara," she said coolly.

"You'll do, then, Kisara." Seto made a few strides towards the door, pausing with his hand against the metal handle. "I'll send some of the data I intend to work on, regarding Duel Monsters, when I get home tonight. I trust, if you have a different idea, you would have a reasonable course of action planned by tomorrow."

Kisara shook her head slightly, feeling her snow-white hair tickle her cheeks. "You want to meet again _tomorrow_? I...I have to work."

Seto's eyebrows raised. "Where at?"

"Cafe Hana, from six-thirty to two."

Seto reached into his coat pocket, retrieving a small digital device. After a moment, he looked up: "I have meetings from two-thirty until the evening in downtown Domino."

Kisara folded her arms across her chest. "Well, then. I don't know what we're supposed to do about that."

Seto stared at her for a moment before responding, "This Cafe Hana...you get a lunch break, no?"

Kisara tilted her head. "Around eleven, probably. Depends on how the morning's going."

Seto nodded briskly. "Then I'll see you at Cafe Hana tomorrow, Kisara." He pushed open the door and took a step out into the hallway, paused, and turned back towards her. "I'll send you the data as soon as I get home. Don't waste my time-be prepared next time."

The door slid closed with a sort of finality. Relieved to be alone, Kisara spread her arms across the table, resting her cheek against the desk. _Working with Seto Kaiba. Geez, who would have thought?_ She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. Her brain was already starting to protest at the prospect of working with a partner as demanding as Seto Kaiba himself; her head ached ever so slightly. _Whatever is going to happen next?_


	2. Chapter 2

The morning rush was something that Kisara was used to, by now-a slow trickle of customers that steadily grew to a constant stream as the time neared nine o'clock, and then the tides would ebb until around eleven-thirty, when people from the surrounding business district would start taking lunch breaks. Right now, Cafe Hana was sparsely occupied, and the empty tables had been bussed and cleaned-freshly-cleaned table-tops reflected late morning sunlight into Kisara's eyes as she scanned the room.

She hadn't slept much that night, as she had been preoccupied studying the Duel Monsters data that Seto had sent her-as promised, it arrived in her inbox a little less than an hour after they parted ways that afternoon. The morning had been easy enough to get through, as she had thrown herself wholeheartedly into helping her coworkers manage the morning rush, but as work began to dwindle, her eyelids began to feel heavy, and the coffee-laden steam from behind the counter lulled her enticingly towards sleep.

"Hey, Earth to Kisara." A tall girl with black, shiny hair piled into a braided bun nudged Kisara's elbow as she slipped past her, setting a pitcher full of iced coffee in the fridge behind her. "We gotta restock chai from the fridge. Can you help me?"

Caught off-guard, Kisara gasped softly, her eyes widening as her coworker brushed past her. "S-sure, Kayoko," she yelped, spinning on her heel and dashing after her coworker.

"So what's going on with you today?" Kayoko asked. Her back was to Kisara, and she was handing her cartons of chai from a high shelf in the refrigerator.

Kisara pursed her lips as she rearranged the chai cartons in her hands to make room for more. "Um," she said uncertainly, grinding the heel of her black work sneaker into the cement floor.

Kayoko stepped off of the ladder, nodding to Kisara and taking a few of the cartons from where they perched precariously in Kisara's arms. "Boy trouble?" she asked, her eyes flashing with a teasing glint. "As long as you've worked here, I don't think you've ever talked about anyone, you know."

"Kind of," Kisara chortled.

Kayoko leaned forwards, kicking open the door with her heel and signaling for Kisara to exit. "Spill," she commanded.

"We're working on a...project together. Computer science, data mining. You know, applied machine learning kind of stuff."

"I don't," Kayoko snorted, "But let's pretend that I do. What's his deal?"

"Well…" Kisara paused mid-sentence, remembering Seto's earlier remark about not wanting to be taken advantage of. She wasn't sure if _gossiping to her coworker about her new programming partner_ would be considered taking advantage of the situation, but she didn't want to risk saying anything compromising, especially not after she had worked so hard to be prepared for their meeting today. "He's, um. Well, I dunno." In spite of herself, she felt the distinct tickle of blood warming her cheeks. "Tall, and with these amazing blue eyes."

"Sounds cute," Kayoko remarked, kneeling down to restock the cartons of tea concentrate in the refrigerator. "What's his deal? Do you know?"

"He, uh." Kisara blinked, setting down her cartons of chai on the counter. "Hey, Kayoko? Think you'll be okay if I take my break now?"

Kayoko turned to look at Kisara, tipping her head quizzically. "I guess," she said hesitantly. "What's going on?"

Kisara's voice dropped to a whisper. "He, um. My partner. He just walked in."

Kayoko's dark brown eyes widened, and she muttered back softly, "no kidding." Kayoko glanced over the countertop, then turned to Kisara, raising one eyebrow playfully. "You were right about him," she whispered, giggling as she returned to her work.

Struggling to maintain her composure, Kisara nodded quickly, tapping her foot anxiously on the ground. "I, um. Yeah," she said, tucking behind her ear a few strands of hair that had slipped out of her ponytail.

"Get the register first, then," Kayoko muttered, turning back to her restocking work.

Seto Kaiba stood in front of the counter, staring impartially into the middle distance. As Kisara adjusted the strings of her apron, she became aware that Seto hadn't yet noticed her. Slipping into the shadow of an espresso machine, Kisara took the opportunity to size up her new computer science partner in full. He was wearing a dark blue woolen jacket over a white dress shirt, and his hair was neatly combed and glinted shades of chestnut and milk chocolate in the watery sunlight. _He's cute_. Kisara swallowed hard, shaking her head to clear the thought away.

"S-I mean! Good morning." She hadn't meant for her voice to squeak, but she had almost accidentally said his name, and she still wasn't sure if he wanted to be outed in a coffee shop as the most powerful man in Domino City.

Seto's face froze for a moment, and Kisara immediately regretted catching him off-guard. As quickly as the look of alarm had set in, though, it passed, and Seto's eyes locked onto hers with a bright, even stare. "Kisara," he said, nodding his head briskly.

"Y-yup. I can take my lunch break now, but-do you want anything? I can make you something before I take off."

Seto shook his head. "I'm having lunch with a client later," he said briskly. "I'll get us a seat."

Kisara nodded quickly. "Right, just a minute."

Seto picked a seat tucked into the corner of the cafe, slightly hidden in the shadows. It was actually Kisara's favorite corner to relax during her breaks, and as she pulled a seat next to him, letting the steam from her cup of brewing mint tea wash over her, she felt a rush of warmth and anticipation surge through her chest.

"I looked at the data that you sent me last night. Obviously, I'm not Duelist myself, so I might be missing some of the nuances-or, maybe, since I don't have the same mindset as a player, I could offer some novel insights into projects we could do."

Seto's eyes widened ever so slightly, and he nodded to her, smoothing out a fresh page of his black leather notebook. After a moment, Kisara realized that he expected her to continue, and she took a deep breath:

"I was thinking, we could do a sort of deck-building thing. If we model different cards by their attributes, we can sort them categorically, and be able to suggest to the user what cards would go well with what. If we wanted to, I think we could implement that dynamically, and the suggestions would update as the user built their deck in real time."

Seto was quiet, tapping at the blank page of his notebook with his capped pen; Kisara could tell he was impressed, and she took a triumphant sip of mint tea.

"That's...ambitious," Seto said finally.

Kisara smiled. "It's a final project. I think I'd be up to it."

Seto's head tilted, and his eyes met Kisara's. She challenged herself to hold his gaze, and lifted her chin, feeling her lips press together in a slight, welcoming smile.

"We could get to work on that. Do you want to establish a repository?" Seto asked.

Kisara nodded, wrapping her hands around her paper cup. "Sure. I'm not sure if we have enough time to really get into it right now, though. I have half an hour for lunch." Her eyes darted up towards the clock on the wall, elaborately decorated with the phases of the moon-twenty-five minutes remained of her lunch break.

"Very well," Seto nodded. "My team, of course, has some deck-construction algorithms of their own, used by the Dueling software at our KaibaLands. In the spirit of integrity, I suppose I should let you start this project, then."

Kisara chuckled. "Fair enough," she said. She sat for a moment, carefully weighing the implications of actions, before blurting out, "hey, can I ask you a question?"

Seto's blue eyes narrowed, and his lips tightened into a steely grimace. "Possibly," he responded, setting down his pen and folding his hands on the table.

"You must be, like, a master at machine learning algorithms, if you're in control of the software development for"-her voice dropped-"the Kaiba Corporation."

"Why bother, then?" Seto finished for her. "It's not always that simple."

Kisara tilted her head, drawing in a sip of mint tea. "Yeah?"

Seto's face was contorted with thought; he appeared to be considering something very seriously. "I was homeschooled, during my...grooming...to rule Kaiba Corp," he said finally. "Much of my learning was focused on applications-how to be a businessman. Although development of new technologies was a passion of mine, it wasn't necessarily nurtured by my predecessor."

Something about Seto's tone shifted-his expression seemed clouded, and his voice tinged with melancholy. Kisara frowned slightly, leaning forwards and waiting for more.

"There were growing pains associated with our transition from a military weapons distributor to a gaming company, and I worked endlessly to...steer that ship in the direction I had always envisioned for Kaiba Corp. Now that the seas are a little bit smoother, I have more freedom to explore my passions in development." The troubled look in Seto's eyes faded, and he leaned back in his seat. "Is that enough of an answer for you?"

Kisara nodded. "Mmm-hmm," she said softly, still pondering the troubled shift in Seto's tone, which vanished as quickly as it had appeared. _I thought he was going to tell me something_ , Kisara thought, biting her lip. She felt slightly frustrated with herself, as if she had peeked behind a forbidden curtain without actually catching a glimpse of anything behind it.

"You must have some story, as well," Seto prompted.

"Not…not an interesting one," Kisara deflected, waving her hand dismissively. "You're a busy guy, right? I'm sure you don't have time to hear about...that, or whatever."

Seto shifted in his chair, crossing one knee over the other. "I'm competent to be the judge of that, I think."

Kisara tilted her head skyward for a moment, closing her eyes. "I'm from a small town from the north, near the mountains," she said simply. "It's not interesting."

Seto's gaze continued to linger on her, until at last he turned his attention back to his notebook. "Very well, then," he said. Glancing at the ornate silver watch on his wrist, he stood up in his chair. "I won't keep you, then, Kisara. Can you send me some early ideas by tonight? If we're both busy people, it shouldn't be difficult to do our collaboration mostly remotely." His lips twisted into an ever-so-slight smile. "I would assume you know about proper coding etiquette."

 _Well, now I'm not sure I do._ "Sure," Kisara said, nodding. "Thanks for meeting me here."

Seto's head turned towards the pastry display, where freshly-glazed donuts and chilled sandwiches were displayed on wire shelves. "Can I get you anything, for your time?"

Kisara blinked, surprised at the gesture. "I'm all right," she said finally. "Thanks, though. Thanks, Seto." After a moment's consideration, she extended her hand towards him.

Seto's hand grasped hers firmly; his handshake was firm but sincere. "I'll be expecting the code tonight," he said, nodding at her as he walked away.

Kisara sank down into her chair, aware of a slight humming in her head. As she watched him disappear into the crowd outside, she found herself smiling at her cup of tea.


	3. Chapter 3

**~~spoilers for the chapter ahead to follow! scroll down quickly to skip~~**

I know people are generally divided about the use of "trigger warnings", but I'd really, really rather have people roll their eyes at me than be upset by reading something they weren't anticipating...so, _trigger warnings for Gozaburo/Seto domestic violence in flashbacks are in this chapter_.

Since _Sparks of Blue_ is kind of a romantic origin story, and the beginnings of every romance involve learning everything about your partner, including the skeletons in the closet and everything they try to put behind them, the occasional triggering topic seems inevitable, given Seto's past. But I'll give warning for anything potentially triggering before the start of the chapter. If you ever need anything tagged/trigger warning'd, always feel free to PM me to let me know. Fanfiction is supposed to be something fun and enjoyable. If there's something you'd rather not read, I hope you'll always feel comfortable letting me know ^^

He hadn't shown up to the first few weeks of lecture, having made accommodations to receive recordings of each of the lectures. It had been a mix of Mokuba's nagging (" _But Seto,"_ Mokuba had pouted in the weeks prior, "You wanted to go to school to _meet_ people and _learn_ things!") and a slight interest in seeing Kisara that brought him to campus at eight on a chilly Tuesday morning. He sighed, straightening the hem of his navy-blue wool coat, and leaned back in his chair, watching as a slow trickle of sleepy students began to flood in.

A week had passed since he first met his assigned partner, Kisara. He thought he had seen many of her type before-tired, scattered, stretched thin yet still ambitious-while interviewing interns for Kaiba Corporation. Combined with the demands of her job at the cafe, Seto hadn't expected much from her, and resigned himself to doing all of the work on his own.

But Kisara surprised him by, the evening after their meeting at her coffee house, sifting through an impressive number of papers about data mining and game strategies. By that weekend she had established a small code repository, which Seto had to admit, begrudgingly, was thorough and well-executed. Kisara, despite her coffee-stained clothes and errant personality, had impressed Seto with her dedication and diligence.

As much as he hated to admit it to himself, he was looking for her in the stream of students that started to fill the lecture hall, warming the air with quiet chatter and the sound of zippers opening book bags. _It's my job to be diligent_ , he assured himself as he found his head whipping over his shoulder at every sound of footsteps coming down the aisle. _I'm not looking for_ her….

"Morning! Seto." A warm, slightly musical voice sounded from behind him. Seto froze, his eyes suddenly locked on the lecturer's podium at the front of the room, as he felt the gentle motion of someone swinging over the row of seats to stand next to him. The faintest scent of coffee and lilacs wafted through the air.

"Are you saving this?" As Kisara leaned in slightly, motioning towards the seat next to him, eye contact became inevitable. Her eyes were a striking blue-not the piercing sled-dog color of his own, but a deep and pure blue the same color as the night sky. Her cheeks were flushed from walking through the cold, and they crinkled cheerily at him as she waved slightly, tilting her head as she continued to gaze at him. "Mind if I sit?"

Seto shook his head, feeling an unwelcome warmth surge through his veins as Kisara slumped into the seat next to him, brushing his arm with her shoulder as she leaned down to retrieve a notebook and pen from her backpack.

"I'm surprised you'd show up." Kisara smoothed out a page of her notebook and scribbled the date at the corner of the page. Dropping her voice to a gentle whisper, she added, "You know, I thought you'd be afraid of like…being recognized, or something."

He was painfully aware of the soft warmth radiating from the girl as she busied herself preparing for lecture; his winter coat, in which he had felt perfectly comfortable moments before, suddenly felt much too warm. As he mentally walked himself through the process of removing his jacket, he realized that the seats were awfully close together, and brushing against Kisara would be almost inevitable. The thought made his head spin…

 _Snap out of it_. He shook his head sharply, pressing his hand against his forehead. It was true that, given his rank and station, he hadn't had many opportunities to meet women his own age, a topic that seemed to be a point of endless concern to Mokuba and an amusing nerve to pinch to his senior went about his business. It hadn't occurred to him that a girl could have such an interesting effect on him. During his brief stint in high school, which ended abruptly a few months before graduation, he had mostly kept to himself, ignoring mascara-laced looks and giggles from his classmates.

"Rough morning?" Kisara asked, playfully leaning her cheek against her desk.

Seto nodded tensely, clearing his throat self-consciously before speaking. "Right. Yes, maybe," he responded.

"This is a late day for me, actually. When I don't have morning class, I have to open the cafe," Kisara chirped, accenting her words with a bright sigh. "I guess that's not how the business world works, right? Nine-to-five, yeah?"

Seto found a hint of a smile creeping across his lips. "At my level, everything happens when _you_ want it to," he said coolly. Feeling satisfied with his response, he chanced a look sideways at Kisara, and felt a certain rush of pride as he saw her eyes widen, and a smile split her lips.

"I forgot," she said, her eyebrows raised. "Speaking of, though...did you have time to look at the changes I pushed last night?"

Seto paused, pursing his lips in thought. "I did. You mean, the ones you pushed at eleven at night?"

Kisara bit the inside of her lip sheepishly. "Yeah. I didn't know you'd be up." The pitchy squeal of audio feedback diverted her attention for a moment as the lecturer turned on her microphone, tapping at it as she adjusted the volume.

"Well, I tried running the simulation overnight, and it crashed my computer. So...I'll be on it after class, I promise. Maybe don't look at it yet." Kisara's expression was something between a sheepish grimace and a playful smirk; her cheeks were flushed and rosy, and her pink lips were pressed together as she stared at the notebook page she had set in front of herself.

Seto nodded. "I can give it a look, if you'd like," he offered.

Kisara tilted her head. "I think I know where I went wrong, but thanks. I'll let you know if I get stuck." She nudged him gently with her elbow, nodding towards the front of the classroom. "We can talk after class, maybe."

From the corner of his eye, Seto watched as Kisara's head bowed, spilling silvery-white hair on her desk and drawing a curtain between her face and his as she began to diligently jot down notes about the lecture. He could hear the soft monotone of the professor's voice in the background, muffled by a ringing in his ears. Kisara's presence next to him, the casual way that she had nudged him, the bright and thoughtful sound of her voice-it was overwhelming to him to be next to her, in a way that he couldn't quite place.

Seto closed his eyes for a moment, pressing his palm against his eyes as he focused on tuning in to the lecture. It was hard to focus, surrounded as he was by dozens of others-there was never much of a need to pay attention in his high school classes, and before that-

" _Stupid boy, pathetic little mutt-couldn't take a derivative if it fell out of the damn sky in front of him." The whistle of a ruler slicing through the air, and a sharp smack coupled by a burning, stinging sensation, jarred his senses. "You thought you could trick me into thinking you'd be something, boy?!"_

 _His eyes stung from a lack of sleep, and the text in front of him swam in and out of focus. The burn of warm tears seared the corners of his eyes, and he scrunched up his cheeks, trying desperately to stop the tears from falling._

" _Through my grace you live, boy. You'd better make yourself damn worth the while. Focus!" Gozaburo's sharp words made the smearing, blurring sheet of calculus problems in front of him even harder to read, and he couldn't help it-he could feel the freeing sensation of heavy teardrops splashing the page, and the floodgates were dangerously close to opening; tears were close to pouring from his eyes, and his nose…_

The gentle, monotone voice of the lecturer began to slowly permeate Seto's thoughts, muffling Gozaburo's roar with her slight hint of a Russian accent. Seto shook his head slowly, watching numbly as his pen slipped out of his fingers and rolled onto the cement floor of the lecture hall.

Had it been that long since he had had taken a formal lesson? Seto shuddered, trying to focus on the warm draft from the heater vents on the ceilings. An uncomfortable tightness in his chest reminded him that he wasn't breathing properly; forcing his shoulders to relax, he inhaled sharply, allowing air to flood his lungs.

Difficulty was relative. He was having no trouble keeping up with the course material on his own, but the act of sitting in class-of having to focus to someone else's words, and take attentive notes-was proving difficult. As much as he tried to focus on the lecture, he could sense the presence of his childhood memories like shadows in his peripheral vision, lurking just out of sight and dissipating the moment he tried to focus on them.

"A popular application of such clustering models can be seen in online gaming. Although the naive solution would be to group players based on rank, as many of you might know, there are more complex factors…"

 _The tightening of a dog collar around his throat as he retched, his stomach pressed deep into the ledge of the table. His eyes bulged, and the world was tainted with spots of red as his body begged for release…_

"Even more sophisticated algorithms might also take into account player preferences, such as the amount of time that a player has spent in a specific role. The challenge, then, is to create a weighting system…"

 _His hands were cold and numb, gripping weakly at his knees. He had been here before-he knew better than to think that this is how it would end-but his body would never come to fully accept the abuse the way that his mind did. It would put up a fight, valiantly trying to bring oxygen to his trembling hands, fighting against the crushing pressure of the collar on his neck. He felt no relief when the pressure was lifted; miserable and exhausted, he collapsed against the table. His breaths came out in loud, ragged, pathetic gasps; though he knew Gozaburo would mock him, he was powerless to stop himself as his lungs fought to revitalize his weakened body…_

The slow return of sensory input offered no relief to Seto. He glanced around the room with cold horror, feeling a bitter taste rise in his mouth as he realized that he was surrounded by a mass of three hundred other students, all of whom were diligently paying attention to the lecturer as she drew out a network diagram on the blackboard.

Numbly, Seto shoved his notebook into his briefcase and grimaced, sliding past pairs of knees as he slowly worked his way towards the aisle. He cringed as his briefcase crashed against the corners of desks, and somewhere in the corner of his mind it dawned on him that walking out at this juncture might be considered rude. The urge to escape won out as Gozaburo's voice, and the phantom sensation of something tightening around his neck, began to return, and he widened his gait as Gozaubro's voice began to grow louder in his head, competing with the dull ringing of shame and panic in his ears.

As the double-doors to the lecture hall slammed behind him, Seto heaved himself into a chair in the lobby, resting his elbows on his knees and staring blankly at the floor.

This hadn't happened in years. He thought he was over this. He ran the tip of his index finger absentmindedly over the black leather covering of his briefcase, temporarily overcome with shame.

" _You were screaming, Seto." Mokuba, twelve years old with soft cheeks and wide, dark eyes, perched himself at the foot of Seto's bed._

 _Seto sighed, leaning back against the headboard. "Go back to bed."_

" _You need help." Mokuba frowned, averting his gaze. "I thought it went away-you promised me that after Battle City, you could put it all behind you, and it would go away."_

" _It's complicated, Mokuba"-_

" _I_ know _. There are doctors, Seto. They specialize in this kind of stuff." Mokuba chewed at the inside of his lip. "With stuff like-like bad memories, and stuff. And bad thoughts. So they don't have to live with you forever."_

" _I didn't ask for your opinion, kid. You need to go back to sleep."_

The doors to the lecture hall yawned open, and Seto froze, listening to the soft sound of footsteps on the linoleum. His heart hammered as he caught a faint trace of coffee and lilacs.

"Hey, you dropped this." Kisara lowered herself into a seat near Seto, putting an empty seat between them. She opened her hand, offering him his silver fountain pen.

Panic fixed Seto in place, and he gritted his teeth, humiliated that he had allowed himself to be caught like this. His eyes were locked on the linoleum, stained with melting slush. The concept of looking at Kisara right now felt impossible.

"Do you…do you want to talk about it?" Kisara's voice was soft enough to coax Seto into turning his head her direction. Her dark blue eyes were round with worry, and her eyebrows were furrowed.

Focusing his attention on holding Kisara's warm, empathetic gaze, Seto felt the last traces of Gozaburo's voice begin to dissipate in his head. _I'm fine_ , he prepared himself to say, surprised and embarrassed when the words caught on his tongue.

"You don't have to," Kisara offered, wrapping her arms around herself and leaning forwards to look more closely at him. "You want some company, though? I can ask for the notes during office hours, or something."

Seto said nothing, but nodded quickly, leaning back against his seat. A moment later, the old hinges of the chairs squeaked as Kisara maneuvered herself into the chair next to Seto.

"We're gonna kill on this project, by the way," Kisara offered, hugging her knees to her chest. "I'm really excited. You know, they say sometimes that up the corporate ladder, people lose their technical skills. But you're-you're still really sharp."

The warm matter-of-factness in her voice soothed Seto's mind like warm honey, melting away the tension of being caught in vulnerable position. The gentle shift in her demeanor from empathetic to encouraging emboldened him slightly, and he felt his voice return. "It's my job to stay sharp," he responded simply.

Kisara scoffed, chuckling to herself. "Fair enough, but...you're _Seto Kaiba_. They say you're like, good at everything."

Seto smirked, pressing his lips together to stop himself from laughing. "I've heard that, as well."

Kisara laughed softly, and Seto turned his head to look at her in full. She was wearing a turquoise down jacket over a pair of navy corduroys, and her hair fell like threads of liquid silver around her cheeks, framing her high cheekbones and delicate collarbone. She was pretty and warm, with a gentle glow of kindness that radiated from her like light. Though it had flustered Seto earlier, he allowed himself to bask in her presence for a moment, comforted by this girl's company.

"Class is gonna be over soon. I'm gonna head out before the stampede comes." Kisara hopped to her feet, slinging her backpack over one shoulder, and turned to face Seto. "Do you need me to stay with you?"

"I'm fine," Seto responded. "Although, maybe I should be on my way, as well." He stood up hastily, taking a few steps towards the door. After a moment of hesitation, Kisara began to follow him.

"I can have my driver drop you off at work, if you'd like," Seto offered as he pushed open the door, gesturing for Kisara to exit before him. "There's more snow coming."

Kisara paused for a moment, then nodded. "Would you?" she asked. "I'm not crazy about walking in this weather."

"Absolutely." Seto couldn't deny a warm surge of triumph that rushed through his veins. "Come with me."


	4. Chapter 4

Kisara sighed, lacing her fingers at the nape of her neck and leaning back in her chair. Outside, wide drops of snow drifted from heavy charcoal clouds, melting into a layer of cold slush as they hit the sidewalk. It would be a quiet closing shift today. Most of the after-work foot traffic would likely be in too much of a hurry to escape the bitter cold. Kisara glanced briefly at her watch: 17:26-five minutes left of her break, and another monotonous hour and a half of her shift. She stifled a yawn, staring down at her notebook page in front of her, on which she had been drawing mindless, inky spirals while staring off into space.

Seto's face, pale and drained as he stared at nothing, continued to flash through her mind, and she shook her head quickly to try to push the image away. True to his work, Seto had his personal driver-a dark-haired and thin-lipped man named Isono who wore dark glasses that obscured his eyes-drop her off at work. Both men had remained totally silent through the duration of the ride, and Kisara wasn't sure she had ever been quite so relieved to see Cafe Hana as the car dragged its way down the main road; the silent intensity emanating from Seto was nerve-wracking. As soon as Isono pulled over to the curb, she had lept out of the car, barely daring to look back inside at Seto.

" _Th-thank you so much for the ride. I would have had to walk through the snow." Kisara had barely been able to get the words out, feeling distinctly awkward._

 _Seto was facing forwards, his arms folded across his chest, staring intensely at the back of his driver's seat. "Don't mention it."_

 _Kisara frowned, shifting the weight of her backpack on her shoulders, and tilted her head as she gazed at Seto. "Everything all right?"_

 _Seto's eyes closed, and his chin lowered. Kisara's heart hammered as she waited for him to speak._

" _I'm fine...Kisara." Seto's voice was soft and husky._

 _Her brow furrowing with confusion, Kisara closed the door to the black sportscar, watching confusedly as it disappeared into the snowy gloom._

The gentle, musical sound of chimes rippled through the empty cafe, signaling the arrival of a customer and rousing Kisara from her reverie. Out of force of habit-she wasn't on duty for another few minutes, after all-Kisara glanced towards the door. A tall, brown-haired man, donning a heavy woolen jacket, stood in the doorway, and his eyes met hers as his gaze swept the room. His eyes were a remarkably bright shade of blue, cold and brilliant even from across the room.

It was Seto Kaiba. Kisara felt a chill run down her spine as this information registered with her, bringing with it a strange mixture of excitement and dread. Frowning, Kisara pushed herself up from her seat, taking a few steps closer.

"Seto?" she asked softly, pressing her lips together. A thin layer of melting snow on his shoulders suggested that he had walked here from a ways away-vaguely, Kisara recalled that the Kaiba Corporation tower was about a half-mile from Cafe Hana, in the heart of the financial district.

Seto appeared frozen for a moment, with his mouth drawn into a thin line and eyes fixed on Kisara, and Kisara paused, taking stock of the situation at hand. If she didn't know any better, she would have guessed that the look on Seto's face was fear or confusion- _but this is Seto Kaiba, isn't it?_

"You need something?" she asked.

Seto shook his head slightly, and his eyes closed momentarily as he ran a black-gloved hand through his hair. "I thought I might find you here," he said finally.

"I-well, I work here," Kisara pointed out awkwardly. "Were you looking for me?"

Seto's lips tightened, and he sighed thoughtfully. "In a sense," he responded coolly. "Do you have a minute?"

"A few," Kisara said hesitantly, glancing up at the clock. "I'm supposed to be on a break. But it's quiet, so…do you want anything? I could take a couple extra minutes."

"No, no." Seto's expression was distinctly displeased. "Go back to work. I didn't mean to intrude here." He looked away, and took a step towards the door; dismayed, Kisara realized that he was about to leave.

"No, really," she said quickly, "It's quiet today. I can clock out for a little. Can I get you something to drink, maybe? It's really cold outside."

Seto paused, and Kisara could almost see the gears turning in his head. To her great relief, after a moment of deliberation, his shoulders relaxed, and he responded, "That's kind of you. Thank you." His gaze darted quickly around the cafe, and he crossed the room in a few quick strides to settle in at the same corner table he and Kisara had met at a few days before.

"Anything you want, in particular?" Kisara asked, dashing to pick up her notebook from a nearby table.

Seto delicately set his briefcase under his chair, and folded his hands on the table. "Whatever you'd recommend."

x

Kisara drummed her fingers against the counter, carefully contemplating what to make for Seto Kaiba. She stood on her tiptoes, peeking at Seto over the top of the espresso machine. His face was angular and almost gaunt, silently begging her for something mild and sweet. Hot chocolate would be too childish-Kisara could already see the annoyed look on his face as she handed him the sticky-sweet beverage, loaded with whipped cream and chocolate sauce-but the thought of loading up her stiff, wound-up computer science partner with bitter, hyper-caffeinated coffee seemed almost criminal.

Kisara grabbed a paper cup from a nearby stack, grinding cinnamon and cardamom into the bottom and adding a small amount of hot water. She spun on her heel, reaching for a metal canister of tea bags, which opened and infusing the air with the spicy and floral aroma of black tea. After a moment of thought, she began to prepare an identical cup before diving under the counter to fill a steaming pitcher with milk. The steaming wand sprung to life with a gentle hiss, and she smiled contentedly as the air around her filled with warm, spicy steam.

"For you." Kisara set a cup down in front of Seto, sliding into the chair across from him.

Seto stared at the drink Kisara placed in front of him. The cup was filled to the brim with smooth, silky milk and dusted with flecks of ground cinnamon.

"It's chai," Kisara prompted, taking a long sip from her own cup. "It's good for cold weather, sometimes. They don't make it spicy enough, in my opinion, so I add some more spices." She smiled proudly, flicking milk froth off of her lip with her tongue. "My own recipe."

She watched as Seto hesitantly brought the cup to his lips. His eyes closed for a moment as the cup tilted towards him, and Kisara swore she could see a subtle glow spread across his cheeks.

"It's good," he said simply, setting his cup down. "Thank you." His expression softened almost imperceptibly, and she watched as his shoulders relaxed slightly, losing their rigid angle.

Kisara smiled, feeling a prickle of warmth in her chest. Seto had a cute smile, she had to admit-a shy and inhibited expression of kindness that seemed to find it's way out of him despite his best efforts on the contrary. Smiling shyly at her, eagerly drinking a cup of sweet, spicy chai, Seto reminded Kisara of a timid animal that was suspiciously trying to suss out whether she was a friend or a threat. She leaned back in her chair, consciously holding back her questions to give Seto a moment to warm up to her.

"You're wondering why I was looking for you," Seto said matter-of-factly, tapping his shoe against the hardwood floor.

Kisara nodded slowly. "I mean…sure, I was," she said hesitantly. Her pulse began to quicken in anticipation, although she wasn't sure of _what_ -the room began to spin around her, and she forced herself to focus on taking another sip of tea.

"I felt I owed you an explanation." Seto's voice was oddly forced and monotone, and Kisara flinched as a familiar tenseness began to creep up his shoulders and into his tightening jaw. "Regarding my behavior this morning."

"You-you don't have to," Kisara responded quickly. "Really, please. You don't owe me an explanation about anything."

Seto shook his head; dark, slightly snow-damp hair shielded his eyes. "No, I-" he said. "I didn't have a very...traditional education. I was tutored privately under the last CEO of the Kaiba Corporation, as a part of my training to be his successor. His methods were effective, but...intense, sometimes." He paused momentarily, and Kisara's gaze flicked down to his hands, which were balled tightly into fists on the table. "Being back in a classroom setting…I didn't think those memories would have such long-lasting effects, as it were." His eyes lowered until they were staring at the polished surface of the table.

Kisara bit her lip, lost for words. She was still struggling to register that the man sitting in front of her was Seto Kaiba, and he was speaking to her in confidence. The intense look in his wide blue eyes, and the steely line of his clenched jaw, belied to her that this was not an easy bit of information to relay.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, nervously twirling a strand of hair around her index finger.

Seto nodded abruptly. "You don't have anything to apologize for," he said brusquely, frowning slightly. The look on his face was almost displeased, as if her words had annoyed him, and Kisara hesitated, ducking her head to avoid his gaze.

"I just meant...it sounds like you went through something," she clarified quickly, swirling the milk foam in her cup of chai. "Not like an apology, but…clearly, something happened, and I'm sorry for that."

"I was adopted by the former CEO of the Kaiba Corporation, in it's heyday of being a military technology company. Anything less than absolute perfection was, to him, a disgrace. Life was a binary to that man-winners, and losers, and to be wrong was to be a loser, and that was unacceptable." Seto's voice wobbled slightly over the last few words, and his knuckles were almost white. "The lesson that failure is absolutely unacceptable was hammered into me in all areas-in business, in academics. In life."

Shaken by the raggedness in the boy's voice, Kisara realized that her head was bowed such that she was staring at her coffee-dusted work pants. She looked up at Seto, who was staring into his cup of tea, so thoroughly rattled that he looked as if he might explode. Kisara fought back the urge to reach across the table and place her hand over one of his tightly balled-up fists, stifling the impulse by lacing her hands on her lap under the table.

"Thank you for telling me," she said after a long pause. "It can't be easy to talk about that."

Seto's face contorted as he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. "It was what it was," he said finally. "You deserved to know why I would act in such a way this morning."

Kisara took a sip of her tea, slightly disappointed as the lukewarm drink hit her tongue- _had they been here for that long?_ "I understand," she replied slowly. Shaking her head, she amended, "well, maybe I don't understand. But I...I'm really honored that you would take the time to share something like that with me."

"You're different, you know." Seto's tone was matter-of-fact, but there was something about him that seemed slightly amused. "What could you have had to gain from following me out of the lecture hall? I don't understand what would compel you to do such a thing."

"You seemed upset," Kisara responded, caught off-guard. "I wanted to make sure you were alright."

"I'm the CEO of a multi-billion dollar corporation."

Kisara pouted, swallowing the last spice-laden sip of her drink. "You're still human."

Seto's eyes narrowed. "Am I, now?"

Kisara paused, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin. "Undoubtedly," she responded. She was dimly aware of her heart pounding in her chest, sending adrenaline through her arteries. Something about talking to Seto made her feel uniquely alert and alive-he was always catching her off-guard, and seemed to enjoy seeing what she could come up with in response. Resentfully, she glanced at her watch, frowning to herself as she realized that nearly a half hour had passed.

"I should get back to work," she sighed, pushing herself up from her chair.

Seto nodded, folding his arms across his chest as he stood. "Thank you for your time, Kisara."

Kisara paused, staring at him for a prolonged moment. "Are you alright?" she said cautiously, angling her head to look up into his eyes.

Again, Seto nodded at her, reaching under the seat for his briefcase. "Have a good evening."

Slightly disappointed, Kisara spun around, heading back behind the counter. Her coworker, a thin boy with curly brown hair, jerked his head towards the cash register as she approached him, and she followed the motion of his gesture, surprised to see Seto standing on the other side of the cash register.

"Let me drive you home," Seto said, resting one hand on the surface of the counter. "It's the least I can do."

Kisara stared at him for a long moment. "I get off at seven."

Seto's expression was unreadable. "I have work to do until then. I owe you, for being...compassionate." Their eyes met for a brief, supercharged second.

"Al...alright," Kisara said, feeling lightheaded. "Thank you."

Seto turned away without another word; the gentle clacking of his shoes against the wood floor echoed in the empty cafe. Kisara exhaled a long sigh, staring at the clock, and waited for the tingling sensation of excitement to ebb from her veins. She was having trouble knowing if any of what had just happened, was real.

"Hey." Her coworker's voice abruptly broke Kisara's concentration, and she whipped around, slightly irritated, to face him.

"Yes?" she responded, still lost in thought about her conversation with Seto Kaiba.

Her coworker grinned toothily, and his eyes narrowed conspiratorially as he leaned in closer to her. "Wasn't that Seto Kaiba?"

Kisara paused, chewing on her lower lip as she thought of what to say. "A friend," she said finally, flouncing away towards the back room. It felt odd, almost victorious, to refer to the illustrious Seto Kaiba as a friend; she wasn't even sure if he would consider her as such, but she was temporarily spellbound by a certain warmth and joy that the word left on her tongue. "We take a class together."


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note:** This chapter contains some spoilers for _Dark Side of Dimensions._ It also makes some references to a oneshot that I wrote-"Alternate Dimensions, Brotherhood, and Us"-that dealt with the _Dark Side of Dimensions_ canon and how Seto and Mokuba dealt with the aftermath of what happened in the movie.  
Originally, I started writing this story pre-DSOD, but there aren't too many explicit references to the actual events of the movie, or the prequel/sequel manga. But heads up, if you haven't seen the movie yet (: 

Also, thank you so much to everyone for following, subscribing, reviewing, reading, everything. It means a lot to me, because who likes writing into the void? :D

~Mei

* * *

Seto watched as Kisara walked towards her apartment building, her sneakers crunching out icy footprints in the snow. She paused as she reached the door, then turned back to look at him. Seto could feel his shoulders tense as Kisara waved, her cheeks splitting into a sweet, broad grin; feeling distinctly self-conscious with Mokuba watching the scene intently from inside the car, Seto waved quickly in return before hastily ducking into the passenger seat.

"She seems nice!" Mokuba chirped from the back seat. Seto glanced quickly into the rear-view mirror, meeting his brother's widened eyes in the reflection.

"I know what you're going to say, Mokuba. Don't." Seto crossed his arms over his chest.

Mokuba's responsive pout was almost comedically exaggerated. "Fine...fine," he said quietly. For a moment Seto watched his brother's expression; the younger boy's face fell quickly and he turned to look out the window. Satisfied, Seto leaned back in his seat, pressing his head against the leather cushion. The car turned onto the highway, and he watched the bright billboards of Domino City begin to gradually fade into the bare, darkened forests that surrounded the metropolis.

"It wouldn't hurt for you to try making friends, Seto." Mokuba's voice erupted suddenly but hesitantly after a long stretch of silence, marred only by the gentle hum of the car engine.

Seto grunted in response, watching his brother from the corner of his eye. Mokuba's brow furrowed with thought before he said, in a carefully-measured voice, "You told me it didn't have to be just you and me. Not anymore."

A bitter taste flooded Seto's mouth, and his gaze dropped to the spotless dashboard, dappled with the shadows of tree branches overhead. "It isn't that simple, Mokuba. Not…not for me."

* * *

 _"Promise me you're not going to leave me in charge of the company again." Seto's body was crumpled on the side of the leather couch, his head draped across one of the armrests. Mokuba sat across from him in an overstuffed chair, wearing a white suit and dress shirt a loosened purple necktie. The younger boy's eyes were puffy, swollen, and focused intensely on his brother._

 _Seto nodded morosely in response. He could scarcely lift his head enough to look his brother in the eye. "Mokuba...I said I promise."_

 _Mokuba shook his head. "You feel weak because you tried to_ shoot yourself into another dimension _with the Quantum Cube. If you think I'm going to go easy on you, I won't."_

 _Mokuba's sharp retort was met only with defeated silence. He took a deep breath to steady himself. "Then promise me you won't go looking for the pharaoh again."_

 _Seto groaned softly, and his eyes fluttered closed. Mokuba nudged his brother's shoulder, kneeling on the carpet and bringing his face close to Seto's._

" _You almost ruined everything_ we _worked for to be reunited with the pharaoh. You almost died. I can't let this happen again." He paused, wiping at the corners of his eyes with his shirtsleeve. "You told me that you would always be here for me, Seto. That you would take care of me, always." His voice broke roughly, and he sniffled heavily before adding, "I'm not strong enough for this, Seto. Please...don't make me take care of you."_

 _Stirred by the pain in his brother's voice, Seto lifted his head from the armrest. "Mokuba...I'm sorry," he said softly. "I promise."_

 _There was a soft scuffling as Mokuba climbed onto the couch next to Seto, resting his head on his brother's ribcage. "We can't do this alone, Seto," Mokuba said finally, exhaling loudly and staring up at the slowly turning fan blades on the ceiling._

 _"This is the life that we lead." Seto's voice was scarcely more than a murmur._

 _"The life that we_ led _. Things can change, Seto." Mokuba's hesitated for a moment, and he drew in a shallow, shaking breath before continuing. "Things_ have _to change."_

 _"Mokuba?"_

 _"...Yes?"_

 _"I don't know if I can." Gently, Seto drew himself into a sitting position, nudging Mokuba into a similar position beside him. "I will always take care of you, but you can't ask...ask me to trust someone." The look in Seto's blue eyes was intense, and the deep, dark circles under his eyes seemed to swallow the rest of his face, which had grown gaunt in the past months. "I...I trusted the pharaoh, Mokuba. Look where it got me."_

 _Mokuba rested his head against his brother's shoulder. "Well," he said finally, "I know that hurts. But promise me, Seto, you have to try again."_

* * *

"You want me to spend more time with her." As the car decelerated onto a single-lane country road, Seto spoke at last, turning his head slightly so he could look into his brother's eyes.

Mokuba's face lit up momentarily. "Mm-hmm," he said. "I think I could be friends with her, too. And it's nice to see you driving someone home after work. Like normal people do for their friends."

Seto's heart leaped, and it took his every ounce of conscious effort to keep his expression neutral. "You only saw her for a few minutes," he said dismissively. "I figured I could do her the kindness of driving her home, thanks to this weather."

"Kindness," Mokuba teased. "That's a new word for you." When Seto didn't respond within a few tense heartbeats, he added in a more thoughtful tone, " _I_ think she seemed friendly, like she wants to be friends with you, too. And you're still working with her on this project, so you didn't drop her, so that means she must be smart, right?"

Seto allowed himself a slight, satisfied smirk. "Her work is acceptable."

Mokuba stretched his neck higher, meeting Seto's eyes in the reflection in the rear-view mirror. "You don't even say that about _my_ work," he pointed out, folding his arms across his chest in a show of playful indignance. "Not all the time, anyway."

Seto leaned back, adjusting the seat slightly so he was slightly reclined, face angled towards the gloomy grey-black sky. "You need to learn how to comment your code more thoroughly, little brother. Praise is begotten through due diligence."

Exhaling dramatically, Mokuba folded his arms across his chest. "Have her over, at least," he bargained.

The car slowly rolled to a stop at the end of a long cobblestone drive. The white panels of the Kaiba manor gleamed in the dim unbuckled his seatbelt, nodding swiftly to Isono. "Thank you for working late," he said, tactfully avoiding responding to Mokuba's request.

Inside the car, Isono dipped his head quickly in assent. "Absolutely, sir."

"Drive safely home tonight."

"Good night, sir." Seto closed the car door behind him and shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat, shuddering as the bitter-cold winter air stung his face. The sound of wheels crunching on pebbles momentarily filled the ensuing silence, fading gently into nothingness and leaving Seto and Mokuba standing at the driveway, bracing themselves against the cold.

Mokuba kicked at a clump of snow that had melted and refrozen into a clump on the lawn. "Invite her over, Seto," he said finally.

Seto picked up his briefcase from the walkway and began to head towards the front door in long, quick strides. "That's not your call to make."

Mokuba huffed, jogging slightly to keep pace with his brother. "It is, a little bit," he reminded Seto; his voice was gentle but the slightest bit weary. "I want you to try. You're supposed to care about what I want."

Slightly irked at Mokuba's insistence, Seto shook his head as if he were shooing a fly from his shoulder. "I know."

As Mokuba disappeared into the house, up the stairs, and into the dark, he sighed to himself. The image of the white-haired Kisara, kind-faced and wide-eyed, was stuck in his mind's eye, and he hated the warm feeling the image brought to him, staving off the cold of the night.


	6. Chapter 6

Kisara swung closed the door to her apartment, exhaling a long-held breath as the door swung closed behind her, offering her the first taste of peace and solitude that she'd had all day. Although the lights inside were off, the faint light from the lamps scattered around her apartment building were sufficient to illuminate strips of the dusty carpet, forming a sort of runway towards her kitchen. With a heavy sigh, Kisara rolled her backpack out of the doorway, then clambered to her feet and into the kitchen.

Her head was still buzzing with adrenaline from being in Seto Kaiba's car. The addition of his younger brother, a bright-eyed and shaggy-haired teenager named Mokuba, who had thrown her for a loop. The younger boy was clearly anticipating Kisara's company, and though he had said very little, Kisara could feel his attention on her, a watchful and cautious sort of attention of a cat observing a stranger. Seto had been in the front seat, making it difficult for her to make conversation. Kisara shook her head, swinging open the refrigerator door. _Was I being too quiet? Was it rude?_

The strain of increased shifts at Cafe Hana, alongside the rapidly-accumulating stress of the semester, had certainly taken it's toll on the contents of Kisara's refrigerator. She grimaced as she surveyed it's paltry contents-a bottle of black raspberry wine, a carton of eggs, a jar of pickled ginger, assorted condiments, and a French press full of cold-brewed coffee. Finding nothing satisfactory, Kisara trudged to her couch, flopping down across the length of it with her head on the armrest. She had eaten plenty at work-by the end of the dinner rush it always became obvious what was going to sell out by the end of the day, and what could be scarfed down on a fifteen-minute break-but tonight, after a long and busy day, Kisara craved a warm, hot meal, without the burden of having to make it herself.

The usual sound of traffic was muffled by the snow, but Kisara could hear the faint sound of water rushing through the pipes in the walls, supplying her neighbors with water. The heater sprung to life with a gentle whirring sound; briefly, Kisara considered lowering the thermostat to save money on her energy bill, but the weight of her sheer exhaustion kept her glued to the couch. Although her bedroom was only a few paces away, Kisara usually tried her best not to fall asleep with her day clothes and makeup intact, and she was too tired and distracted to properly deal with getting ready for bed.

She couldn't pinpoint what exactly spending time with Seto Kaiba made her feel-on one hand, while in the car on the way home from work she couldn't wait to be alone in her apartment again, though now she found herself wishing she'd spent that time in the car getting to know Seto and his brother better. Something about the fact that he- _Seto Kaiba, the eminent CEO of the Kaiba Corporation-_ had given her a ride home from work today made her feel strangely giddy. She caught herself smiling in spite of herself, the starstruck and bubbly giggle of a young fangirl.

An idea crossed her mind, enticing enough for her feet to bring themselves to the ground and across the room, as if acting of their own accord, until she reached her backpack. She extracted her cell phone from a pocket and stared for a moment at the shiny silver object in her palm. Without thinking, she opened her phone:

 _To: Seto K._

 _Thanks for the ride home. Your brother seems like a nice kid! Hope he didn't mind the detour too much._

She hit send, then quickly hid the phone in the pocket of her pants, almost trying to pretend that the message hadn't happened. Logically, she knew that there was nothing wrong-it was expected, perhaps-for her to send her thanks to Seto for sparing her a trip in the stormy weather. Nonetheless, something about it made her feel anxious, like she was extending her hand to a dog that might bite her. Oddly sheepish, Kisara crossed the room to lie on the couch again. Insisting to herself that she wasn't waiting for Seto's response, she closed her eyes, tucking the hood of her sweatshirt underneath her cheek as a makeshift pillow.

Long moments, interrupted only by the gentle hum of the heater, stretched by. Kisara sighed, pressing her tongue against her cheek. She knew that she shouldn't, but she felt oddly foolish for expecting Seto to respond to her message-her simple thank-you, which scarcely merited a response from someone so much more important than herself.

 _Bzzt-bzzt._ Kisara's phone vibrated in her pocket. Kisara found herself bolting upright, biting the corner of her lip as she read the incoming message:

 _Kaiba S.: He didn't mind. Actually, he found you interesting. He thought we might all get along._

A sense of triumph, warm and bright like sun-kissed honey, washed over Kisara, and she felt her cheeks warm. She paused, tilting her head as she considered how to respond to this. She was spared by a second buzzing of her phone, indicating another incoming message.

 _Kaiba S.: If you'd be willing, we would like to invite you over tomorrow afternoon._

Kisara's heart jumped, and she gasped softly to herself. Free from both work and classes tomorrow-a rare, wonderful true weekend day-there was nothing stopping her from spending the afternoon with the Kaibas. Her gaze flicked to the window, where snow drifted sleepily, piling on the outside of her windowsill. If she were to decline the invitation that Seto had extended, she would likely spend the day curled up on the couch, watching anime under a blanket with a steaming bowl of noodles-her preferred way to spend her free time, since she seldom was able to spend quality time alone. Although she usually cherished the thought of her alone time, it felt oddly unappealing next to the prospect of getting better acquainted with the Kaibas. It might be nice to do something unexpected, for once-when was the last time she had a chance to make plans for leisure?

 _Oh, what the heck._ Anxiety prickled the hairs at the base of Kisara's neck as she typed back:

 _Matsui K.: I'd like that. I'm free all day tomorrow._

Reluctantly allowing herself to experience open eagerness, Kisara pushed herself into a sitting position, wrapping a blanket around herself and balancing her phone on her knees. When the muffled _bzzt-bzzt_ came again, heralding his response, she opened her phone eagerly, excited to see what Seto had to say to her.

 _Kaiba S.: I can send Isono for you, in the town car._

 _Matsui K.: That'd be great._

 _Matsui K.: Thanks. I'm looking forwards to it._

 _Kaiba S.: Likewise. Isono can pick you up around noon._

 _Matsui K.: I'll be ready. Thanks!_

Kisara smiled to herself, finding a renewed surge of energy as she set off to her bedroom to get ready for the night. After a few minutes, she was settling into her bed, staring at the fat flakes of snow that drifted past her window. Anticipation stirred in her chest, and she glanced at the clock- _23:56_. She would be seeing Seto Kaiba again in twelve hours. A happy smile crossed her lips, and she closed her eyes. It wasn't long before sleep claimed her.

x

 _Bzzt-bzzt._ Kisara's arm extended clumsily over her nightstand as she pawed blindly for her cell phone, with her eyes still closed and her face still pressed against her pillow. Reluctantly, she opened one eye, shuddering as the cold blue light from the screen of her cell phone blinded her.

 _1 New Message: Kaiba S._ Kisara groaned to herself, laying the device on the pillow next to her as she opened her eyes to accustom herself to the light. Thin strips of dim light streamed through her half-closed blinds, illuminating the dusty air with artificial moonbeams and casting slowly shifting shadows onto her bedspread. Outside, the fleecy charcoal stormclouds had begun to dissipate, bearing patches of the inky-dark sky; a few renegade stars gleamed defiantly from behind the clouds, twinkling with cold, distant light.

Confusion, tinged slightly with concern, crept into Kisara's mind as she rolled onto her side to glance at her alarm clock-03:28 was displayed on the screen in red, blinking lines. _Kaiba…? Now?_ Kisara found herself unconsciously holding her breath as she flipped open her cell phone, shielding her eyes with her as she squinted at the swimming text on the screen-

 _Kaiba S.: Finished adding some new functionality to our classification algorithm. I've set up a few benchmarking tests, but I'd like to hand the algorithm over to you for testing, as it may benefit from a fresh pair of eyes._

Kisara snorted, rolling over onto her back and stretching her arms out so she was sprawled across the entirety of the mattress. _To think I was worried about him_. Kisara pushed the thought from her mind.

 _Sounds great, thanks! Maybe a little later today, though...it's still the middle of the night._ She paused, unable or unwilling to deny the slight rush of adrenaline she felt from communicating with Seto. Before she could think of a reason to stop herself, she pressed the 'send' button before hastily shutting the phone and slipping it under her pillow. She felt a bit like a young child smuggling a cookie from the cookie jar-she felt both anxious and slightly exhilarated.

A few moments later, Kisara's heart lurched as she felt her phone buzz underneath her head.

 _Kaiba S.: Of course. Forgive the intrusion, I must have lost track of time._

 _Matsui K.: It's alright. At least I don't have work tomorrow morning._

 _Kaiba S.: Well, that's fortunate, I suppose._

Kisara rolled onto her stomach, resting her head against her arm, and watched the shadows move on her wall. Messaging Seto in this way reminded her of playing table tennis; with each successive response, an unspoken pressure continued to mount, reminding her that the streak would inevitably fail. She stared sleepily at her screen, unsure of how to respond. The backlight of the screen dimmed, gently reminding her to hurry up or go back to sleep. Too tired to be disappointed, Kisara shoved her phone back onto her nightstand and closed her eyes. The snow outside muffled the usual noise of Domino City's residential district, and the only noise came from the gentle whirring of the fan blades on the ceiling, tickling Kisara's cheek with cold air.

 _Bzzt-bzzt._ Instinctively, Kisara reached for her phone, flipping it open with a well-practiced flick of her wrist and grimacing when her eyes stung in protest as she stared, surprised, at the screen.

 _Kaiba S.: Well, good night, Kisara. See you tomorrow._

 _Matsui K.: See you then (:_ Kisara set the phone back on the nightstand and snuggled more deeply into her comforter, drifting off into a peaceful, dreamless slumber.

* * *

 _Heya! *is mildly surprised that people are reading this fic :-O*_

 _Anyways, sorry for the long break between chapters. I've been in a bit of a creative dry spell, but have some ideas in the works for the next few chapters, and I'm looking forwards to sharing them with you! Here's to hoping you enjoy them._

 _-Mei_


	7. Chapter 7

Mokuba was waiting at the kitchen table, humming contentedly to himself as he sat at the dining room table, playing a game on a handheld device. As he heard Seto's quiet footsteps descending the stairs into the kitchen, he hastily set the console on the table and sprung up, grabbing a bowl that had been sitting next to him, and hurrying towards the kitchen sink.

"'Morning, Seto!" Mokuba chirped brightly. His socks skidded across the marble-tiled floor, and he steadied himself against the countertop. The bowl in his hands made a slight _clink_ noise as it knocked against a drawer, and he grimaced slightly.

The older boy, dressed in a navy blue _KAIBA CORPORATION_ windbreaker and blue-striped pajama pants, sighed, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he stepped forwards to block his brother's path. Mokuba frowned as Seto reached forwards to take the bowl from him, inspecting the contents inside.

"I told you you're not supposed to eat ice cream for breakfast, Mokuba," Seto scolded, staring disdainfully at the melted, syrupy mess. "And you're not supposed to waste food, either."

Pouting, Mokuba folded his arms across his chest. "You took forever to get up," he responded, deflecting his brother's scolding with a shrug of his shoulders. His eyes flicked over to the green digital clock on the microwave, and he added, "It's almost ten, Seto. Are you not sleeping again…?"

Seto made a _tsk_ noise through his teeth before wheeling around to rinse out Mokuba's bowl of ice cream. "I was talking to your...friend," he responded cautiously.

Mokuba, who was fishing through the pantry cabinet for a snack, snapped his head around to look at his brother. " _Really?_ " he asked, unable to keep shock from his voice. He cocked his head slightly, staring for a moment at his brother. "Kisara?"

Seto turned to the coffee maker, opening a large silver tin and measuring spoonfuls of coffee grounds into a filter. "Yes. That's what you wanted, wasn't it?"

Mokuba grinned sheepishly. "I didn't think you'd have the guts."

Seto turned around, leaning back against the countertop and smugly folding his arms across his chest. "You always underestimate me, little brother." The coffee pot behind him gurgled with the sound of boiling water, and Seto was briefly illuminated by a burst of coffee-scented steam, illuminated by morning sunbeams that streamed through the window, concentrated by the white snow outside.

"When's she coming over? Are you going to do anything for her?" Mokuba asked, folding his elbows on the kitchen table and resting his head over them.

Seto leaned against the countertop, staring mindlessly out of the window. Although his position was relaxed and nonchalant, Mokuba smiled to himself at his brother's tensed, slightly hunched shoulders-he knew Seto better than anyone, and could sense that his brother was not as relaxed about their visitor as he was trying to appear.

"Isono will pick her up from her apartment. I thought perhaps we could have lunch prepared for her." Seto glanced at the volume of brewed coffee in the carafe, sighing as he resigned himself to waiting for a few more minutes. "Have you seen the cook this morning? Where's Hideo?"

"You gave him the day off," Mokuba reminded him. "He has the weekends off."

Seto _tsk_ -ed softly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well."

Mokuba smiled, rising to his feet and crossing the kitchen. He grabbed a mug shaped into the head of a Blue-Eyes White Dragon from the cupboard and headed to the refrigerator, retrieving a bottle of coffee creamer. "We can still order in," he pointed out. His dark eyes glittered with excitement as he added, "Or, _you_ could cook lunch…"

Shaking his head, Seto headed to the kitchen table, leaning back against his chair. "You're getting what you want," he warned. His bright blue eyes met Mokuba's violet, and he narrowed his eyes. "Don't push it." His tone was cold and firm, but there was a certain sparkle in his eyes.

"But you're such a good cook, Seto!" Mokuba glowered. "You never cook for me."

Cautiously, Seto bit the corner of his lip, absentmindedly checking the time on his watch. "I have a company to run." More gently, he glanced up to where his brother was pouring coffee creamer into his mug, and added, "Not too much sugar, Mokuba. You're going to ruin your appetite."

Mokuba giggled softly, turning his head away from his brother's irked stare and spinning around to grab the coffee pot. "Okay, okay," he snorted, filling his cup. "Just be ready to have her over. I'll cook, if you _really_ don't want to." He sat down next to Seto, resting his head playfully against his brother's shoulder. "You're supposed to make guests feel _welcome_ , if you want them to come back again."

Seto sighed, lacing his fingers behind his head. "We'll see," he sighed, tilting his face to catch the watery sunbeams streaming through the window. "We'll see."

x

Kisara half-expected that Seto simply wouldn't send for her-she would stand outside, waiting patiently in the freezing cold, for a black sportscar that would never arrive. It seemed unreal that Seto Kaiba would invite her to spend time with him at his private residence, something that her imagination would have spun for her in a semi-lucid dream. Although she was beginning to come to terms with the fact that she knew and worked with _the_ Seto Kaiba, spending time with him outside of their brief class-related exchanges felt to her to be another level of unreality. Her heart almost skipped a beat as she watched a sleek black car, driven by a dark-haired man in a crisp suit, pulled towards the curb a few feet from where she was standing.

 _It wasn't a dream, then_. Wonderstruck, Kisara watched numbly as Isono emerged from the driver's seat, opening the passenger-side door and gesturing for her to step in. "Miss Matsui," he said, nodding briskly. "Please, take a seat."

"R-right." Kisara hastily jogged to close the space between herself and Isono, flinging her backpack into the footwell of the car and diving in quickly after. The interior of the car was warm and smelled pleasantly like spice and leather. "Thank you." She smiled nervously as Isono nodded matter-of-factly at her, gently closing the car door moments before she could reach out to close it herself.

Isono reseated himself a heartbeat later, grunting softly as he re-buckled his seatbelt and eased the car back into the quiet street. As the car began to move forwards, Kisara found herself holding her breath, her heart pounding against her ribcage. The quiet sound of the car tires crunching damp asphalt, coupled with the quiet purr of the engine, felt insufficient to fill the silence in the air, and Kisara wrung her hands together, desperately wondering if it would be rude to try to make conversation with Isono, if he was only in her company because it was his job.

"Mr. Kaiba is very impressed with you." Isono's voice, unsurprisingly rich and gravelly, startled Kisara from her trance-like state of watching the stretch of road directly in front of the windshield.

Trying to hide the touch of warmth radiating from her chest, Kisara bit down hard on the inside of her lip. "Y-yeah?" she stammered.

Kisara studied Isono's face as he continued to drive. It amused her that he was wearing his dark sunglasses even though he was inside-it very much suited her image of what the personal assistant to a billionaire CEO should look like. His mouth was creased gently with the telltale signs of age, but his lips were pressed taught, hinting at his amusement with Kisara's shock. "Mr. Kaiba has never sent for a...contemporary, before," he said finally. "You must really be something."

Despite the surge of pride that coursed through Kisara's chest, she tried her best to keep her expression neutral. "It's a difficult assignment," she said, trying her best to sound neutral. "I…I'm sure that he just needs my help deciphering some of my code, is probably all."

The car veered gently off of the highway, circling a roundabout and turning onto a quieter road lined with tall, bare trees that jutted up imposingly from the white snowbanks like poles of iron.

"It must be distracting, having to work with someone as kind and pretty as you are," Isono remarked suddenly.

He was toying with her, then, if subtly-the smirk on his face as Kisara's mouth gaped open awkwardly gave away his game. Caught between relief and amusement, Kisara laughed, and Isono's steely veneer broke, giving way to a short, gravelly laugh.

"You're teasing me," Kisara protested, still smiling to herself.

Isono smiled slightly. "My apologies," he said briskly. His smile faded as quickly as it had appeared. "It's good to see Mr. Kaiba...being like any other young man, as it were."

Kisara wasn't sure if she was imagining a trace of melancholy in the man's tone. "Oh?" she asked lightly.

"Mr. Kaiba was scarcely older than a child-fifteen years old-when his time came to lead the Kaiba Corporation. His training had been going on for years before that. Even at the age of ten, when I first met him, he was far too serious to be considered a child."

The words lingered in the air. Kisara bowed her head slightly, pressing her palms against her knees, as she contemplated Seto's past. As a student of the technology industry, Kisara was used to hailing Seto as a kind of prodigy-it hadn't even occurred to her that such a remarkably young rise to prominence would come at a cost.

"In a world full of-what, do you still call them _playboys_?-Mr. Kaiba never used his fortune to attract lovers or sycophants. And yet, in his position, surely it must be difficult to find anything but."

Lost for words, Kisara nodded along. "Maybe," she agreed quietly, stiffly watching as the trees around them parted abruptly, revealing a long, red-brick driveway leading to a wood-paneled mansion in the same creamy color as the clouds overhead.

The car made it's way past an open wrought-iron fence, turning into a small garage attached to the side of the manor. As the purr of the engine died, Isono lifted his hands from the wheel and folded his arms across his chest.

"I've known the brothers Kaiba as long as anyone, Miss Matsui." His tone was solemn as he turned his focus to her; even from behind the dark glasses, Kisara could feel the intensity of the man's stare. "Please, Miss Matsui. Be kind to them."

x

"What are you going to wear, Seto?" Mokuba asked his brother, setting his book on the floor and sprawling himself across the couch.

From across the room, Seto glanced up from his laptop. "Hmm?"

"You have to _wear_ something, Seto," Mokuba prompted. A devilish grin spread across his face as he added, "I know that you don't dress to _impress_ like you used to, but really-that?" He gestured vaguely at his brother, who was balancing his laptop across blue pajama-clad knees.

Seto's face reddened visibly, and he hurriedly returned his focus to his work. "I don't know, Mokuba," he muttered. "I have"-

"Work to do. No, you don't." Mokuba padded over to Seto and tugged gently at his shoulder. "You always use that excuse. You can't be wearing pajamas when Kisara comes to visit."

With a sigh of defeat, Seto closed his laptop and placed it delicately onto the coffee table in front of him. "I can handle myself, little brother," he said.

"With some things," Mokuba conceded playfully. "I think I still have your old jacket-the silver one? Do you think it still fits?"

"Okay, Mokuba, you don't need to"-

With a final, impatient tug on Seto's shirtsleeve, Mokuba scrambled towards the hallway. "Catch me, then, before I find it!" he shouted.

Seto groaned, pushing himself to his feet and heading down the hallway after Mokuba. As the younger boy laughed and started to jog away from his brother, disappearing behind the ornate double-doors at the end of the hallway, Seto lengthened his stride to close the distance between himself and his brother. As much as he hated being teased by Mokuba, he was glad that they were slowly reaching a place where they could laugh about the past…

* * *

 _"Seto? Seto!?" A pair of hands frantically shaking his arm, and a voice shrill with panic, permeated the dull fog shrouding Seto's consciousness. He opened one eye to see his younger brother's terrified face inches from his, swimming hazily in his field of vision. Seto closed his eyes again, groaning as the light caused his temples to pound…_

 _"Not again! Seto! Wake_ up! _" Mokuba sobbed, crumpling onto the floor and leaning his head against Seto's chest. Defeated, he squeezed his eyes shut, feeling warm tears begin to well up behind his eyelids._

 _"Mr. Kaiba-Mokuba, sir." The doors to Seto's bedroom swung open, and Isono rushed in, kneeling beside the brothers._

 _Mokuba wiped his nose against his sleeve. "He was like this when I came in," he sniffled. "He's in there, but he can't get up."_

 _"I'm going to call an ambulance, sir." Isono swiftly rose to his feet, whipping a cell phone out of his pocket. "You stay with your brother, sir." His voice softened as he added, "It'll be all right, Mokuba."_

x

 _Beep…beep…beep. Mokuba strained his neck back until his head touched the top of the tiny metal hospital chair. The rhythmic sound of Seto's patient monitor began to slowly soothe him away from consciousness-his brother is alive, the machine says so, and he's so_ tired _…_

 _"Um...Mokuba?" A slit of light flooded across the floor and into Mokuba's eyes as a nurse cracked open the door, peering into the darkened room._

 _Mokuba groaned softly, rubbing at his eyes. "Mmmhm?"_

 _"Your brother-Mr. Kaiba has a visitor. May I invite her in?"_

 _He hadn't slept since before he wandered into Seto's bedroom looking for breakfast, only to find Seto collapsed on the floor of his bedroom-how long ago was that? It must have been days ago-his mind is shrouded with fog. "Sure," he said groggily. "Wait...who?"_

 _"Mokuba Kaiba." Mokuba squinted at the slender, shadowy figure that appeared in the doorway. The voice was silky and strangely familiar…_

 _"Ishizu?" Mokuba asked._

 _The figure in the doorway nodded._

 _"Come in," Exhausted, Mokuba's head slumped over and rested against his shoulder. "You can turn on the lights, I guess."_

 _Ishizu Ishtar stood before him, bathed in the blinding fluorescent lights of the hospital room. She surveyed her surroundings for a moment before delicately seating herself in the bottle-green vinyl chair opposite Mokuba, on the other side of Seto's unconscious form, covered by a thin hospital blanket._

 _Mokuba squinted at Ishizu for a moment, too exhausted to read the expression on the woman's face. Her dark eyes were fixed on him, dark and unblinking. "Why are you here?" He demanded bluntly, heaving a hearty sigh._

 _"Your brother and his Quantum Cube caused quite a disturbance to the Millenium world." To her credit, Ishizu remained composed in the face of Mokuba's unhinged hostility, lifting her chin as she speaks. "He never could learn to leave well enough alone."_

 _He knew this much was true. Hot tears welled up behind Mokuba's eyes, and he fought them back as he snapped back, "Okay, so now what?"_

 _Ishizu's dark eyes narrowed slightly. "Your brother here has played with the boundaries of space and time beyond what we can possibly understand." A certain cold flintiness in Ishizu's voice that made Mokuba's spine stiffen. "He may have caused permanent changes to the realities of this universe."_

 _Mokuba swallowed hard, breaking Ishizu's hard gaze and redirecting his attention to the sad, limp body under the hospital sheets. A thin tube trickles nutrient fluid into his brother's bloodstream, sustaining a fragile being that can no longer sustain itself._

 _"It was you who stopped him from tearing apart space and time itself." Although Mokuba still can't think of a single way that Ishizu would know this, her statement was resolute._

 _Mokuba nodded morosely, smoothing out the blankets around Seto's pale arm._

 _"You saved your brother, as well. He would surely have died, if he hadn't brought the universe in on itself first."_

 _Unable to muster words, Mokuba drew his knees up to his chest and rested his chin against his legs. Hesitantly, he brought his gaze to meet Ishizu's, and nodded again, quickly. "Wh-What happens now?" he croaked._

 _Ishizu shook her head, sending thick locks of shiny black hair across her shoulders. "For this universe? Hopefully, nothing," she responded. "Whatever changes your brother may have brought to this reality, they seem to be subtle. Perhaps we do not need to hunt for them."_

 _Mokuba shook his head impatiently. "For Seto," he clarifies. His voice cracked painfully as he added, "Is he...is…"_

 _"Time, child." Mokuba wondered if he was imagining a slightly maternal bent to Ishizu's words. "His body and soul are critically weak. Only time can heal them."_

 _A wave of mixed relief and despair flooded Mokuba's heart. "So I can't...there's nothing I can…"_

 _"Care for him. He needs your love more than ever." Ishizu stands abruptly, adjusting the hem of her skirt. "And please, keep him from causing more trouble to the Millenium world." She stood over Seto's bed, pressing two fingers against his cheek, before turning and walking away. Alone again with his brother, Mokuba stared at the lines and numbers on the patient monitor, both soothed by Ishizu's assurance that Seto might eventually recover, and frustrated that he had no idea how long that process would take._

 _Beep...beep...beep..._

* * *

"Try this on." Mokuba stood inside of Seto's walk-in closet, half-hidden behind neatly-hung clothes. Before Seto could protest, he tore a white sweater off of its hanger and threw it over his shoulder at his brother.

Seto's thin arm snaked out to catch the flying article of clothing in midair. "I don't need your help," he reminded Mokuba, resignedly holding the sweater up to his reflection in the mirror.

Mokuba snorted in response. "Right," he purred, slumping down against the wall and staring up at his brother with bright, teasing eyes. "I like this girl, remember? I want her to _want_ to come back."

The frown lines in Seto's cheeks creased. "You mentioned that."

The younger boy tilted his head, intently studying his brother's expression. After a long moment, he stood up and crossed the room to flop down on Seto's bed, cocooning himself in a wine-red quilt. "I-alright," he said, more somberly. "It's okay to be nervous."

Seto's shoulders jumped. "So what if I am?"

Mokuba's brow knit together with surprise. "Wow-okay," he said, releasing a gusty sigh. "I thought it'd be harder to drag that out of you."

The bed-springs squeaked as Seto heaved himself onto the bed next to Mokuba, who rolled over himself to reach his brother. The elder Kaiba cracked a rare smile. "Not everything is supposed to be a battle, Mokuba," Seto responded evenly, giving his brother a gentle nudge. "You were the one that taught me that."

Mokuba smiled, propping his head against Seto's shoulder. "I know. I'm great," he giggled, closing his eyes.

"Seriously, though...Kisara," Seto said after a moment. "What am I supposed to do?"

Mokuba's lips pursed. "I dunno, Seto," he confessed, shrugging innocently. "Talk to her, I guess. And at least you've got a cute wingman, right?"

Seto's pale eyes narrowed. "I don't think this is how wingmen usually work."

"Ehh, whatever." Mokuba shrugged. "Are you going to wear the sweater?"

Seto's large hand traced the white, cable-knit pattern. "I might be able to be convinced," he said finally.

"Let me see." Mokuba crossed the room back to the closet, pulling out a pair of stiffly-ironed, dark blue jeans. "Try it with these."

Seto sighed with mock resignation. "If you insist." He took the pair of pants from his brother's hands and disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door gently behind him.

…

"I don't know, Mokuba." Seto frowned hesitantly, scrutinizing his appearance in the mirror.

"You look great!" Mokuba chirped encouragingly, crossing the room to stand beside his brother in front of the mirror.

"I didn't realize I lost so much weight," Seto remarked, tugging at the neck of the sweater.

A shadow flitted across Mokuba's face. "I mean…" he began tensely, pushing the memory of his brother's body wasting away in a hospital bed.

"...I know," Seto responded quickly, his face contorting into a pained grimace for a moment.

"...You look nice, though," Mokuba said finally, wrapping his arms fondly around his brother's waist and resting his cheek against the soft fabric of the sweater. "Normal."

"Really?"

"Don't worry, you're _not_ ," Mokuba snorted to himself, "but...it's nice, Seto." He tilted his head as he thought of the right word. "More approachable."

"I'm not," Seto scowled.

"I _know_ ," Mokuba laughed, "But you're trying something new." He took a step back to look into his brother's bright blue eyes. "Right?"

A small, hesitant smile crept over Seto's face, and he reached out to ruffle Mokuba's hair affectionately. "Right."

x

"Through here, Miss." Isono led Kisara through a dimly-lit room with a washing machine and dryer in the corner. Despite the surge of anxiety that tugged at her stomach, Kisara was somehow amused and comforted at the little indicators of the Kaiba brothers' everyday lives-a place to do laundry, an opened box of Pocky left on a counter, a box of dryer sheets on a shelf, a wooden rack of shoes as the tiled hallway opened into the main section of the house. Kisara paused briefly, kneeling to untie her sneakers.

"I'll alert Mr. Kaiba of your arrival, Miss Matsui." Isono said formally as Kisara stood up, gently nudging her shoes onto the bottom shelf of the rack with one foot.

"Thank you…" Kisara said softly. Remembering the conversation she had in the car with Isono, she looked away a little awkwardly, extending her hand to shake his while avoiding his gaze.

"My pleasure, Miss Matsui," Isono responded promptly, reaching out to shake her hand. "Mr. Kaiba will meet you in the parlor shortly."

Kisara nodded, taking her first good look at the room she had just entered. The room was large, elegantly decorated with black leather seats and a glass coffee table that reflected the gleam of the lights overhead. Kisara smiled slightly to herself as her eyes fell upon a gleaming white sculpture of a Blue-Eyes White Dragon, staring imposingly at her from the mantle, baring it's polished marble teeth and staring at her with eyes of brilliant sapphire. She shifted her weight from one foot to the next, wondering whether it would be too presumptuous to seat herself. Her heart buzzed dully with adrenaline as she looked around her, and for what felt like the first time, it began to truly dawn on her that she was about to _hang out with Seto Kaiba_.

 _I've arrived…_

* * *

 _/is bad at updating regularly like a normal fanfic writer_

FIRST OF ALL, *in voice* thanks for all of your support! I haven't had a chance to respond to all of my reviews yet-not because I don't appreciate them, but because I am bad at doing things-but I have read and truly, sincerely appreciate each and every one.

It's been a pretty crazy summer for me...working full-time _annnnnnndddd_ I just found out I have to take one more class before I can officially graduate? x[ But, I want to see this story through, and so even if updates might be a little slow, they are coming :P

Best,

Mei


	8. Chapter 8

Kisara's socks were mismatched. _Of course they are,_ she thought to herself, frowning at the mismatched patterns-one white with a pattern of pale pink hearts, and the other a solid powder blue. _Hopefully Seto won't notice._ She frowned to herself and twisted a strand of hair around her fist, a perpetual nervous habit of hers. _I shouldn't care, right?_

Despite it's first impressions of elegance, the Kaiba's living room was surprisingly inviting. Fragile winter sunbeams streamed through a metal-paned window that stretched across a whole wall, offering glimpses of a small lake outside, shrouded with snow and covered with a layer of ice that bounced the sunlight off of it's smooth, glass-like surface. There were plants-a tall leafy plant in a ceramic urn, a fern perched on a low-lying table, a hanging pot of ivy over one of the windows-that lent an air of comfort and warmth to the room, and Kisara chuckled to herself as she imagined Seto doing something as simple and ordinary as tending to houseplants.

"Kisara?" A voice interrupted Kisara's train of thought, and she glanced around the room for the source of the noise, now slightly embarrassed with herself for daydreaming about Seto. From a staircase tucked behind a folding screen, emerged a boy in a royal blue sweatshirt with a monogram of the Kaiba Corporation logo emblazoned on the front in white. a curious and eager grin tucked under dark, messy hair-

"Hey. It's Mokuba, right?" Kisara asked quickly, leaping to attention. The boy had seemed so small next to his brother, though he was actually pretty tall, Kisara now realized-she gulped as he approached, and she found herself tilting her head upwards to look him in the eye. Mokuba's eyes, she noticed, were a surprising shade-grey, flecked with violet-no less striking than his brother's.

"Yeah. We met last night." Mokuba's face broke into an easy grin. "Seto's coming downstairs. He would have come down to greet you when you came in, but we didn't know you were here until Isono came upstairs and told us."

Kisara chuckled awkwardly. "It's alright," she assured him. "I hope I'm not intruding on your day, am I?"

"Ya kidding?" Mokuba snorted, flopping onto a sofa with performative glee. "There's not that much to do today, with the snow and stuff. They had to close Kaiba Land, even."

Tentatively following Mokuba's lead, Kisara settled onto a black cushion next to Mokuba. "Right, the amusement park you guys opened in Domino City," she prompted.

"We've opened them all over the world, too," Mokuba added, smiling brightly. "It's been Seto's big project for...well, for a while now. Lots of big openings and stuff. He travelled everywhere." The boy smiled proudly, and Kisara noticed that his hand rested briefly on a metal locket he was wearing around his neck, hung on a thick, leather cord. "There's Kaiba Lands in countries across all the continents now! It was my big brother's dream. So now that it's become a reality, he can go back to school again."

A rush of warmth, as well as a paradoxical sense of melancholy, washed over her as she listened to the boy talk about Seto. _He really looks up to him,_ she thought. The warmth and enthusiasm in Mokuba's voice while describing his brother seemed so at odds with the stiff and aloof person that Kisara had come to know in the past weeks. Kisara had felt as if she had gotten to know her classmate, and hearing Mokuba talk about his brother made her feel oddly like an outsider, as if there was a whole side of Seto Kaiba that she had never seen.

"Seto can be kinda quiet." As if he had read Kisara's mind, Mokuba leaned in towards her, his striking violet eyes wide with concern. "He's nice to you, right? You can tell me."

Before her eyes, Mokuba had transformed from a gushing kid brother into a serious teen with a solemnity well beyond his years. Fighting back surprise, Kisara responded, "Y...yeah."

Mokuba nodded quickly, but his eyes were still intently fixed on her. He might have been young, but his gaze was intense, and Kisara shifted awkwardly in her seat, still shaken by Mokuba's sudden shift in tone.

"Well...okay," Mokuba responded. "You seem like a good person, and I want you to like Seto. He isn't always very nice, you know." He glanced over his shoulder and leaned in closer to Kisara, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Wait, shhh. He's coming."

Hearing the soft pad of footsteps in the hallway, Kisara craned her neck to peek around Mokuba, feeling the hairs behind her neck prickle. Seconds later, a tall figure emerged from the hallway: Seto Kaiba, dressed in a crisp white sweater and dark jeans. He was carrying something on a bamboo tray, which Mokuba scrambled up to grab from his brother's hands, carefully bringing it to the coffee table.

"You made tea?" Mokuba inquired eagerly, his eyes focused on a large ceramic teapot, ornately decorated with a pattern of dark blue flowers.

"Better," Seto responded. Kisara was surprised by the softness in Seto's voice. As he approached, he nodded briskly to Kisara before setting out three cups, one for each of them, around the low table. Following Mokuba's lead as he knelt on one of the cushions surrounding the table, Kisara settled onto the cushion opposite Mokuba. As Seto sat down between them, Kisara caught the scent of black coffee and shampoo-something so pleasant and mundanely ordinary that it brought a wry smile to her lips.

Seto nodded at Kisara, and she paused for a split second, marvelling at the bright blue of his eyes. "Apologies for making you wait," he said.

"It's alright. Mokuba kept me company," Kisara said; Mokuba, who was watching Kisara's expression intently, nodded as she spoke. "Thank you for sending Isono to get me. It would have been difficult to get here, with this weather."

"The pleasure is all ours!" Mokuba burst in. Turning his attention to his brother, he added, "Can I pour Kisara some tea, Seto?"

Seto nodded approvingly, and Mokuba grabbed the teapot from the center of the table. Kisara noted with some amusement that, despite his earlier politeness, Mokuba hadn't offered her a drink before filling his own teacup.

"Oh-yay!" Mokuba's eyes lit up as a thick, steaming liquid poured into his cup, bringing it with it the sweet scents of cocoa and vanilla. "You made cocoa, Seto?"

Seto said nothing, but Kisara saw a flash of warmth in his eyes that faded as quickly as it had appeared, leaving her wondering if she had just imagined it.

…

"Hey, Seto?" Mokuba, having drained his second cup of hot cocoa, glanced up at his brother.

Seto, who had been quietly staring ahead, turned his attention to his younger brother. "Yes?"

"Can I be excused, please?" Kisara smiled inwardly as she watched Mokuba tilt his head and throw his brother a winning, pleading grin.

Seto nodded quickly, causing his neatly-combed brown bangs to fall astray into his eyes.

"Thanks for coming over, Kisara," Mokuba bubbled, replacing his teacup on his saucer and shoving it towards the center of the table. "I'm gonna go play some video games, though."

Mokuba's bright violet gaze caught Kisara's, and the expression in his widened eyes sent a chill down her spine. The boy was sweet and energetic, but she could sense a whirlwind of emotions just out of view.

"I'll see you later, Mokuba!" Kisara bowed her head quickly before smiling warmly at him. "It was nice to see you."

Mokuba nodded. "Catch you later, Kisara," he responded. The tone of his voice was casual, though as he turned to leave, Kisara noticed him glance over his shoulder, studying the scene with his brother and their new friend together in the quiet room, surrounded by the dancing sunbeams that filtered in through the bamboo blinds.

There was a long pause. Kisara wrung her hands in her lap as she listened to Mokuba's padded footsteps fade away, realizing that she wasn't sure exactly what she was supposed to say to Seto, who was sitting across from her, staring pensively out the window.

"Thank you for coming here to visit." Relief washed over Kisara like a wave as Seto's clear, stern voice broke the silence. "Mokuba and I are glad you could join us."

Kisara leaned back in her seat, trying to relax her tense shoulders. "I'm sorry for being a bore," she confessed. "I don't know if you were expecting to be entertained."

Seto's eyes met hers, and the corners of his lips curled upwards in a slight but unmistakable gesture of amusement. Kisara dared herself to match his gaze, studying the color of Seto's eyes-pale and bright like blue-hot flames, with flecks of darker colors beneath the surface. His face was sharp and intense, even more so when his attention was focused on her, and she could feel her cheeks warming despite herself.

"Quite the opposite," he said, suddenly breaking Kisara's concentration. A little bit flustered, she watched as he picked up his teacup from the saucer, taking a long sip of cocoa. "We don't have many visitors-not now, and not before. It's nice to have a-" his voice faltered ever-so-slightly-"friendly presence here."

Kisara pressed her lips together to suppress a smile. "I would've thought that you'd entertain a lot," she offered politely, gesturing to the sleek room with her hand. "You have a beautiful home."

A shadow crossed Seto's face, and he set down his teacup with a loud, jarring _clink_. "When you rise to power as quickly as I do, it can be difficult to know whom to trust," he responded curtly. "The ability to suss out those who truly have your best intentions in mind takes years of careful honing. For the sake of self-preservation, and especially for Mokuba, I have to be…careful...about the people with whom I form ties."

Kisara's stomach twisted, and she felt strangely unsettled by Seto's shift in tone. "Okaaaay..." she said slowly, feeling her polite smile start to falter. Seto nodded, and a cold, awkward silence set in between the two of them. Kisara dug her fingernails into her palm despairingly, struggling to find appropriate words to respond to Seto's earlier sentiment. Seto's ice-blue eyes, which were still keenly fixed on her, widened with alarm. Kisara bowed her head nervously, feeling the muscles in her neck tighten. Seto had an unusually intense manner about him, which was especially apparent in his sky-blue, unyielding stare.

"I've noticed you're quite a competent programmer." Seto broke the silence at last. He rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand as if to rub away a headache.

Kisara glanced at him, suppressing a noise of surprise that welled up in the back of her throat. "Th-thank you?" she asked hesitantly.

She watched with amusement as Seto's lips pressed together thoughtfully, and he tilted his head. "The way that we first met. You seemed tired and hasty, and hadn't prepared at all." Seto leaned back slightly. "You surprised me, Kisara. I wouldn't have expected it of you."

"Well, I." Kisara started, her heart hammering in her chest at being put on the spot. "I've been working a lot of hours. I'm trying to save up money to apply for graduate school in America."

"What do you want to study in _America_?" Seto pressed. Kisara wasn't sure what to make of his tone, which was unusually direct; she was beginning to gather that it might be his manner of speech, but Seto's way of speaking felt unusually critical and direct, as if he were consciously dissecting her every word.

"I'm not sure-bioengineering, I think. It's expensive to apply, though. I think I'm a few years out." Thoughts of overdrawn credit accounts and looming bills to pay began to creep into Kisara's thoughts, and she pushed them away with a quick shake of her head. "I have the job at Cafe Hana in the meantime, anyways."

"The cafe downtown," Seto prompted.

"You've come by a few times," Kisara reminded him. "It's a nice place to work, I guess-good coworkers, right, but they say people say that about anywhere. I've been there since I moved to Domino."

"From up north." Seto's voice was matter-of-fact.

"Right." Kisara drew back slightly, surprised that he had remembered such a trivial detail about her.

There wasn't much to respond to, and they sat in silence for a few moments. Kisara's eyes fell upon the blue-and-white teacup in front of her. Steam still rose in lazy spirals from the rim of the mug, wafting the tantalizing smell of cocoa towards her. She had almost forgotten about it in the midst of her anxiety, and she quickly lifted the cup to her lips. Her eyes widened with joy as the subtle, bittersweet flavor of chocolate touched her tongue.

"This is great!" Kisara exclaimed aloud, setting her cup back onto its saucer with an overly-loud _clink_. "You made this?"

"One gets good at making cocoa when they have a little brother to take care of," Seto remarked. There was a slight twinkle in his eye as he reached for his own cup, pausing to take a drink. "I'm glad you like it. I trust that a barista would have discerning tastes in such matters."

Kisara giggled. "It's good," she offered brightly. "The stuff at work is just mixed with syrup we order in big jugs. This is way better." The warmth of her drink began to diffuse its way through her body, easing the tension in her back and shoulders.

...

"Hey, can I ask you a question?" Kisara asked, tilting her head towards Seto. Her teacup was nearly empty, and she reached across the table to help herself to another cup.

Seto's eyebrows raised behind his thick crop of bangs. "You may," he responded.

"Is there a plan for today?" Kisara bit at the inside of her lip. "I don't want to keep you for too long."

"There are no plans." Seto's nose wrinkled for a brief instant before he added, "Although, to be sure, maybe there should have been. We don't...do this often. I didn't mean to be a poor host."

A touch of warmth spread through Kisara's heart at Seto's awkward sincerity. "I don't really know what to do either," she said honestly. "We could play a game-president of the Kaiba Corporation must have some good stuff up his sleeves, right?"

Seto paused for a moment. "Do you play chess?" he asked finally.

Kisara's head tilted skyward as she thought. "A few times. My mother taught me how to play when I was in primary school," Kisara recalled. "I was alright at it. They say it's a lot of algorithms and stuff, but I never really took the time to put it all together in my head."

An eager sparkle filled Seto's eyes, and Kisara felt encompassed by his visceral eagerness. "It's been awhile since I've played as well," he said. "Fancy a match?"

"I mean-sure," Kisara said. "But I don't think I was ever that good."

Seto pushed himself to his feet, disappearing behind a folding screen and into the hallway. "It's all right if you're out of practice," he called back. Kisara smiled to herself at the performative arrogance in his voice as he added, "I assure you, you would have lost anyway."


	9. Chapter 9

As a gesture of sportsmanship, Seto let her have the first move. The chess set was of his own custom design, with pieces made of clear and frosted crystal. The queen of each set, the most valuable and versatile piece in a player's arsenal, had an ornate, carved dragon perched on her shoulder, with its armored tail snaking around her waist and its head raised proudly in a mighty roar to reveal rows of intricately carved teeth. The dragon of the white player was designed to look like a miniature version of the Blue-Eyes White Dragon: Seto's loyal companion in the Duel arena and on the board.

Now, he watched as Kisara's slender fingers brushed the polished top of the white dragon-queen, which she held up for inspection as she set up her pieces on her side of the board. A strange current of emotion swept through Seto's chest as she marveled at the tiny thing, wrapped around a clear blue-white chess piece almost the same color as her hair. Although he knew that it was irrational, he almost always insisted upon playing whites when he played chess with Mokuba, not for the strategic advantage-despite Mokuba's best efforts, he could still beat him without much of a struggle-but because _he_ was the rightful master of the Blue-Eyes White Dragon. The surge of emotion coursing through him now felt foreign to him-not quite jealousy, but something like an intense yearning. He shook his head, suddenly aware that he was staring intensely at Kisara. Her gaze flitted from the queen piece in her hand to Seto, and she smiled softly as she set the piece upon the board.

"It's pretty," she remarked. "The Blue-Eyes White Dragon, right?"

Seto nodded, feeling slightly off-balance as the tidal wave of emotions slowly began to cede. "You told me that you didn't play Duel Monsters," he responded, gathering his own frosted-glass pawns into his palm.

He found himself fixated on the gentle contours of her cheeks as her pale lips pressed together in amusement. "I don't," she said, "but everyone knows the Blue-Eyes White Dragon. It's…iconic."

Seto's face felt warm. "That's right." The soft lines of her face, the gentle glow of her pale hair as the sunlight hit her from behind through the frosted windows-Kisara was having a certain hypnotic effect on him that he was struggling to deny.

"Well, I think my pieces are set up," Kisara declared, folding her hands in her lap. "Waiting for you."

His heart rushed, and he felt strangely flustered as he set up his own pieces on his side of the board. He was keenly aware of Kisara's bright, watchful stare, and the way that it made his hands shake slightly, making it difficult to place the chess pieces on the board.

* * *

 _Mokuba jumped into the revolving doors that led to the Domino City General Hospital, heaving a sigh of relief as the rush of air-conditioning tickled his cheeks. The air outside was stiflingly thick and humid, and running all the way to the hospital from Kaiba Corporation headquarters had left him drenched him with sweat that poured down his neck and pooled on his collarbones._

 _The security guard posted next to the elevator smiled politely at him, bowing her head as he passed-Mokuba wondered if she, too, knew the good news. He had become something of a fixture at the hospital during his brother's extended stay; Seto's health deteriorated quickly after his intake, which led to him catching an antibiotic-resistant strain of pneumonia. Mokuba visited dutifully between his responsibilities as the acting head of the Kaiba Corporation, though he was growing weary of the pitying looks that the nurses gave him as they passed him. Seto, who had been drifting in and out of consciousness since being rushed to the hospital, hadn't awoken in nearly a week, and had been unable to communicate with Mokuba for even longer._

Ding _. Mokuba squeezed himself into the elevator as soon as its doors began to yawn open, narrowly avoiding crashing into a nurse dressed in teal scrubs. The nurse looked familiar to Mokuba; he recognized the man's kind, almond-shaped eyes, which crinkled slightly as the man smiled broadly at him._

" _You must have heard about your brother," the nurse remarked, punching the button to the fourteenth floor-the Intensive Care Unit, where Seto currently resided._

 _Mokuba nodded, feeling a lump form in his throat that left him incapable of speaking. They rode in silence together, and Mokuba tilted his head up to look at their reflections on the polished glass ceiling, staring up at his violet-eyed reflection._

Ding _. Mokuba huffed impatiently as the elevator settled to a stop, shifting from one foot to the other. He was mentally racing down the hallway, pulling back the curtain that separated Seto's hospital room from the hallway, collapsing into his brother's arms…_

" _Have a good day, Mokuba," the nurse called after Mokuba as he took off down the hallway, raising one arm in a distracted salute._

 _x_

 _The sight of Seto's bright blue eyes, wide open and facing the door, brought a wave of relief so strongly upon Mokuba that he collapsed to his knees. His brother's face was gaunt and pale, his eyes sunken and heavy despite days of sleep; his body, hidden under the thin hospital blanket, was fragile, but he was awake and alive._

" _Nii-sama," Mokuba breathed, climbing to his knees. His heart hammered in his chest, and he felt only dimly aware of the stinging sensation in his scuffed palms._

" _Mokuba." Seto's bed was propped up to put him into a sitting position, and he shifted his weight slightly to bring himself upright. "Hey, kid."_

 _Mokuba flopped onto the chair next to Seto's bed, leaning across the bed and wrapping his arms around his brother's bicep. The powder-blue hospital gown is gone, replaced by a fuzzy grey flannel sweatshirt-Mokuba has passed by this exact garment countless times in the gift store window, Seto must have ordered a change of clothes-that soaks up the tears that trickle down Mokuba's cheek._

 _After a moment, Mokuba looked up to study his brother's face. "I thought you were going to die," he said finally, feeling the lump return to his throat._

" _I wouldn't leave you, Mokuba," Seto said solemnly. "I promise."_

 _A prickle of irritation lanced through Mokuba's spine, and he bit back an immediate retort about_ the Quantum Cube/space station/launching himself into the afterlife in pursuit of the pharaoh _, but he simply nodded, adjusting one of the thin tubes feeding oxygen into his brother's nose._

" _You must be tired," Mokuba remarked finally._

 _Seto shook his head slightly. "I missed you," he said suddenly._

 _Confused, Mokuba tilted his head, allowing himself to stare at his brother._

 _Seto's voice was quiet and shaky. "This is my fault."_

It is _. Mokuba nodded slowly, averting his eyes from the agonized expression on his brother's face. An eerie stillness, broken only by the steady stream of flashes and beeps coming from Seto's patient monitor, settles over the room._

 _A thought dawned on Mokuba, and before he could think of a reason to repress it, he burst out, "Seto, why don't we play a game?"_

 _A glimmer of hope brightened Seto's somber expression. "We don't have…"_

" _Come on, we own the_ biggest gaming company in the world _, bro. We can figure something out." Grinning brightly at his brother's positive response, Mokuba reached into his pocket and retrieved a small silver device. "I didn't bring any of my consoles, because I came straight from a meeting. But for now, we can play chess on my cell phone." He booted up the game. "If you get tired, we can save the game for later."_

 _Seto smiled softly. "We haven't played chess together since...since…" Neither of them had talked about the orphanage in years. Mokuba shivered as he saw the shadows of memories flash behind his brother's bright blue eyes._

" _I know," Mokuba said, placing his hand over his brother's as he offered his cell phone to him. "Maybe I've gotten better at it since then, you know. I've been practicing. I'll even let you go first."_

* * *

"So, you're good at chess." Kisara's sapphire eyes narrowed as she studied the game board for a moment, then advanced one of her pawns out of the range of Seto's frosted-glass knight. "Where'd you learn?"

Seto froze, caught off-guard by her innocent question. "My...father taught me when I was a child. But it wasn't until a few years later that I discovered my true aptitude for the game." His voice was cool and veiled; there was a wealth of memories attached to his love of the game, but he held them back. _She left her rook unguarded._ Seto's lips curled with pleasure that Kisara had taken his bait, and moved his bishop across the board to take her rook.

Kisara _tsk_ -ed her tongue with displeasure as Seto placed her rook alongside his other captured pieces. Briefly, Seto's eyes met hers, before she quickly looked away.

"I'm sorry," Kisara said softly. A pale pink flush was climbing up her cheeks, and the bright color stood out starkly against the snowy color of her hair. "I didn't mean to…"

Seto shook his head. "It's fine," he said shortly. "I don't need your pity."

Kisara recoiled quickly as if she had been stung, and the hand that she had extended to move one of her bishops knocked over a few of her pawns, still lined up in their starting position. Seto felt an uncomfortable soreness rise in his throat at the shame that was obvious in Kisara's hunched shoulders and averted eyes. He hadn't meant to snap at her, but he _hated_ being spoken to with pity…

"You didn't know," he said simply, righting Kisara's pawns. "Don't waste your time worrying about it."

Shyly, Kisara glanced at him through a veil of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes. "I don't know what to say, about… _that_ ," she responded hesitantly, wringing her hands together in her lap. "I don't know the right words."

"There are none." Having reconstructed the setup of the game board, Seto leaned back and rested his palms on the floor. "It isn't your fault."

Kisara nodded slowly. Her lips pressed together, and her dark blue eyes narrowed with concentration. For a moment, it looked as if she were about to say something, but she looked away, heaving a soft sigh.

"My past made me the man I am today," Seto said. The familiar burn of conviction eased away the lump in his throat as he added, "The trials that I went through with Gozaburo...the loss of my parents. I have worked hard to make sure that they were not for nothing. I won't live in the past, and I won't dwell on the ghosts that live there." Images of the pharaoh, watching him with wide indigo eyes, staring down from his throne, swam into his consciousness, and he struggled to keep his voice down as he fought them away. "I don't feel sorry for myself, and I suggest you follow suit."

She looked up, staring at him from across the board. He lifted his chin proudly, surprised and impressed by her sudden burst of courage. There was no hint of pity on her face, but her expression was still gentle and kind. A chill ran through Seto's spine, and he felt overwhelmed by the empathy in her eyes as she looked at him. How long had it been since anyone but Mokuba had regarded him so warmly?

"Alright, then," Kisara said at last, dipping her head in assent. "I think I understand that now, Seto."

The eagerness in her voice caught Seto off-guard, and he found his lips curling into a broad, pleased smile before he could stop himself. "Okay, Kisara," he responded. A warm feeling spread through his chest, and his heart pounded with excitement. Something about Kisara was stirring up emotions he hadn't felt in years-not since he was a teenager, not since…

"Well then." Kisara flashed him a determined grin, and leaned forward slightly, moving her bishop across the board. "Let's finish this game, shall we?"

x

 _/takes forever to update bc has been in the weeds for weeks at work (_ _when your cloning isn't working, re-make your antibiotic stocks, people. also, amp degradation in LB+amp is too real :P)_

 _This sounds weird and silly, but it's legitimately so humbling to know that people are...reading? things that I'm writing? what? thank you for sharing this angsty Blueshipping journey with me ^^ I'm slow at updating (both bc writing is hard and my real life can be hectic sometimes), but I have a lot of ideas that I'm excited to bring into motion sooner rather than later._

 _-Mei_


	10. Chapter 10

"Miss Matsui, a car is ready for you at your convenience." A smartly-dressed man appeared in the mouth of the doorway and bowed deeply. Kisara and Seto looked up at once; Kisara nodded quickly at the man, who disappeared into the shadows of the hallway, before turning back to Seto.

"I have to open the cafe tomorrow...I should be getting home. Thank you for having Isono take me." Kisara sighed as she pushed herself to her feet. "And for having me over."

Seto shuddered as the young woman's dark blue eyes met his own, and he found himself unable to ignore the sensation of his heart soaring in his chest as she smiled at him. Kisara's pale skin looked almost translucent, accentuating the vivid color of her eyes. He couldn't deny that, objectively, she was very pretty; she radiated a soft and quiet light that reminded him of the full moon.

x

"Well."

Seto was startled by Kisara's sudden, awkward declaration. Her cheeks were flushed a soft shade of pink, and her hands were clasped in front of her body. A creeping sensation began to spread like frost under Seto's skin. How long had he been staring at her?

"I'll see you out," he recovered briskly, running his hand nonchalantly through his hair. "I wouldn't want you to get lost on your way to the car."

Kisara tilted her head, and her lips pursed. "Thank you," she responded with a slight nod of her head. She paused, allowing him to walk briskly ahead of her before scampering to pick up her sneakers as she exited the room. Glancing behind him, Seto watched as Kisara hastily tucked her shoes under her arm and hurried to follow him down the hallway. He could hear the soft patter of her feet behind him, and the smell of lilacs wafted past him as she took a few quick steps to fall into pace with him.

He couldn't look directly at her, keeping his eyes fixed on the tiled floor beneath them. From the corner of his eye he could see her white hair fluttering as she walked beside him. _Stupid_ , he berated himself internally, replaying the bewildered look on Kisara's face after he'd found himself speechless in front of her a few minutes before. _Damn…_

They reached the end of the hallway, face-to-face with an unassuming wooden door that led to the garage. Kisara knelt down to tie her shoes, and Seto stepped in front of her to swing the door open. The musty smell of gasoline greeted them, along with a bitter rush of cold winter air; Seto gritted his teeth as Kisara flinched visibly at the gust of cold air, cursing himself again for doing something so thoughtless. He slammed the door shut again.

"Well, good evening, Seto," Kisara said, standing up and untangling her loose white hair with her fingers. "I enjoyed your company today. Mokuba's, too."

Seto simply nodded in affirmation. "Until next time," he said, flashing her a small grin. "Perhaps you should work on your chess game before we face off again."

For a moment, Kisara's eyes narrowed indignantly, and she heaved an exaggerated sigh. Seto thought she might snap something back playfully in return, but instead, she opened the door and smiled widely at him. "I'll see you in class tomorrow." She paused for a moment, then waved at him; their eyes met, and her pink lips parted into a sweet smile that sent a chill down Seto's spine. The door closed behind her with a small _thump_ as she stepped backward into the garage, and Seto could hear the rumble of the car as the engine roared to life, taking Kisara back into the world beyond.

The carbonation in his stomach slowly started to fade, leaving a faint, warm glow in its' place. The kind look in Kisara's dark blue eyes lingered in Seto's mind as he turned around and began to retreat down the hallway. Finding himself at the entrance to the living room again, he stepped into the room and knelt down to pick up the teacup that Kisara had left behind on the table. She had been sitting here just a few moments ago, smiling at him and drinking cocoa. His cocoa cup was still almost full, though the sweet liquid inside was cold by now-engrossed in the novelty of Kisara's company, he had completely forgotten about his drink while it was still warm. Settling himself onto a cushion, he tilted the cup back and finished the cup in a single gulp before abandoning the cup on his saucer and wandering upstairs with the warm, hazy feeling still lingering in his chest.

The upstairs television was on and buzzing quietly. A Mokuba-sized nest of blankets lay empty on the sofa, with the boy's dark blue game controller abandoned on top. Mokuba must have gotten frustrated with his game and took off to his room without taking the time to put things back to how they belonged. Seto shook his head as pointed the remote control at the television, then tipped his head as a thought began to dawn on him.

 _How long has it been?_ he wondered, picking up one of the flannel blankets piled on the sofa and wrapping it around his shoulders. Mostly for lack of opportunity, Seto couldn't remember the last time that he had played a video game purely for his own entertainment. As the CEO of a high-tech gaming company, he had occasional opportunities to indulge his childhood passion, but he couldn't remember the last time he had the chance to play a game that wasn't part of a scheduled alpha-test or something that Mokuba had coaxed him into playing. A smile crept over his lips as he booted Mokuba's game console and sank deeper into the couch. Mokuba had been playing a single-player run-and-gun game. It wasn't a Kaiba Corporation game, which were the only games that Seto had the bandwidth to think about these days. He grabbed Mokuba's controller and entered the game, feeling the familiar jolt of excitement that he felt while gaming.

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees as he lost himself in the jump-jump-jump-duck rhythm of the first level of Mokuba's game...

x

"You like her." Mokuba's voice sounded abruptly. Intensely focused on timing a jump onto a moving platform, Seto hissed with annoyance at the disturbance; in his peripheral vision, he could see his brother standing over him and wearing a devious grin.

"You should have seen the way you kept _staring_ at her," Mokuba added, gleefully settling onto the sofa next to Seto and nudging his brother's arm. "While she was drinking cocoa. While she was staring at the chess board. She seems like a good person, Seto, but she's not really _that_ interesting."

Had his fascination with her really been so obvious? Seto felt his cheeks growing unbearably warm as he tried to maintain focus on the game he was playing. He stammered, trying in vain to form a coherent sentence. "I-I"- Vaguely, he realized that he had lost focus on the level he was playing, and paused the game with a resigned sigh. "You shouldn't just appear out of nowhere and say things like that."

Mokuba shrugged off his brother's annoyance, then shook his head slightly. "I don't think she noticed, anyways. _I_ wouldn't have noticed if I didn't know you so well. You're not usually…very...well, _taken_ with people." He yawned and hugged a pillow close to his chest. "They're usually more taken with _you_."

Being tall and strikingly pale-eyed had that kind of effect on people-often half a head taller than the next tallest person in the room, and with bright, intense blue eyes, Seto was difficult to forget. His intimidating appearance, coupled with a childhood full of struggles, had left him with a finely-honed ability to command the toughest of crowds. Even though he didn't often seek the company or approval of others, he couldn't deny the exhilaration of showmanship.

"Do you think she...was taken with me?" he asked slowly.

"I just met her, too," Mokuba pointed out. "I don't know her very well. But girls like you. You know that." The younger boy sighed and cradled the pillow in his arms. "We know that _too_ well."

Seto stared at him. "I'm not asking if she has the potential to be another one of those girls who send me letters or obsess over pictures of me that they find on the internet," he said pointedly. "I don't want her to _throw_ herself at me."

Mokuba straightened up into a sitting position. "So you want to be friends with her," he suggested.

Seto looked at him for a long moment. "...I think that's what this feeling is."

"It's about time. Everybody wants to have friends, Seto. That's a normal feeling. It seems like she wants to be friends with you, too-so what's the hangup?"

"Maybe right _now_ , she does," Seto responded, tracing his finger across the glass tabletop surface, "but if she looks far enough...there are red flags. A lot of them." Seto's expression darkened. "It might be wrong to let her get attached."

Mokuba's eyebrows twitched. "We did some bad things," he responded softly. His voice sounded suddenly duller, as if they had the same conversation in the past, and he was merely reiterating his lines. "We were young, Seto, and what Gozaburo did to us-to _you_ -"

"Stop." Seto cut him off abruptly with a brisk shake of his head. Mokuba's spine stiffened with alarm, and Seto's ferocity wavered for a second as he sunk his hand into his lap. "What I did...it wasn't your fault, Mokuba, and you can't blame yourself for following me." His eyes closed for a long moment. "You trusted me, and I failed you."

"We don't have to revisit it," Mokuba pointed out, scooting closer to Seto and resting a hand soothingly on his brother's shoulder. "We don't have to talk about it every time it comes back to you. We're well past the point of diminishing returns."

The tension in Seto's shoulders slowly began to ebb, and after a few moments of silence, with Seto and Mokuba sitting motionlessly side-by-side, he looked at his younger brother with an expression of surprise. "When did you get so smart?" He asked earnestly.

Mokuba shrugged. "I had to," he said. Without waiting for his brother to reply, Mokuba slipped his arms around Seto's waist and pressed his cheek against the clean white fabric of the white sweater he had picked out that morning.

Seto rested his chin against his brother's shoulder. It was moments like these that Mokuba's resilience amazed him; his younger brother had been dragged into hell before he was old enough to make decisions for himself. It was Mokuba's faith and unyielding love for him that had brought him back from rock bottom. He wrapped his arms around Mokuba and pulled him closer to himself, allowing the never-ending stream of thoughts that always flowed through him at rapid speed to fade into the background.

Still wrapped in his brother's warm embrace, the images of Kisara that floated to the forefront of his conscious felt safer somehow. Kisara was kind and diligent, that much he knew for certain, and undoubtedly would want and deserve someone with similar qualities. In these simple moments, he could almost imagine himself in that role-someone worthy of friendship, and empathy, _love…_

Mokuba slowly pulled away, holding his brother at an arm's length as he stared at him with wide violet eyes. "Seto?"

"Yes?"

"You need to make me dinner now." Mokuba grinned. "You forgot to serve lunch, too, and I'm really hungry."

"Right." _You really forgot to serve lunch to your guest, idiot._ The magnitude of his oversight made Seto laugh. "Kisara will never want to come back here, will she?"

Mokuba laughed. "You owe her a nice meal, too," he berated. "Can you make fried chicken?"

Seto shook his head with feigned exacerbation. "It's a waste to spend so much time cooking when it's already getting late," he said. "The cook will be back tomorrow, so you don't need anything elaborate. What if we just had instant noodles? That would leave us enough time to play a game together." He gestured to the television, which still had the bright 'game over' screen displayed.

Mokuba's eyes lit up. "There's a player-versus-player mode," he suggested.

Seto smiled and hoisted himself to his feet. "Sure. You'd better get warmed up while I make dinner if you want to have a ghost of a chance at beating me."

"Yay!" Mokuba flopped over, expanding to stretch across the whole couch as soon as Seto stood up. Retreating back downstairs, Seto rolled his eyes at Mokuba's antics. Mokuba's ability to act like a perfectly normal, happy kid amazed him sometimes…

The next morning, Seto specifically requested for Isono to drop him off at an intersection a few blocks from Domino University. Used to listening unquestioningly to Seto's whims, Isono complied with only a nod to acknowledge the request. As they pulled up to the corner, the neon lights of a nearby convenience store flooded the car, and Isono hastily unbuckled his seatbelt to open the door for Seto.

"I can wait for you, sir. It's quite cold," he offered, swinging open Seto's door. Puffs of white steam billowed from his mouth along with his words, and he clasped his hands together to keep them warm.

"I'm not an invalid," Seto replied curtly, reaching back into the car for his briefcase. "I'll see you in the afternoon." Slamming the door behind him, Seto hastily retreated into the convenience store, leaving a sighing Isono to maneuver the car back into morning rush-hour traffic.

As he headed towards the back of the store, Seto ducked his head to avoid recognition and pulled at the collar of his jacket to hide his face. Refrigerated bento were on display in the back of the store, and as he stood in front of the vast selection, his pulse began to quicken.

Mokuba had rightly pointed out that he failed to provide a meal for Kisara yesterday, and now he was looking for something to bring her that would pay that debt. Thinking about what _Kisara would want, what Kisara would want to eat, what Kisara might like_ made his heart race, and he felt oddly giddy and self-conscious imagining the look of surprise and excitement on her face when he presented her with the lunch he had chosen for her.

 _Is she a vegetarian?_ He wondered as he considered a bento with grilled steak, his first choice if he were choosing the food for was no way to know for sure what her eating preferences were-he had only seen her drink coffee and cocoa, after all. He glanced at the selection of pastel pastries next to the boxed lunches and reached for a cup of strawberry parfait-Mokuba's favorite.

 _No, you owe her a meal_ , _not just a snack._ He shook his head and glanced at his watch-there were twenty minutes before class. _You're going to make yourself late._ It would be safest to buy her something vegetarian, but the vegetable bento looked so sad and flavorless to him in comparison to the boxes packed with meat.

He lost himself for a few minutes poring through each of the meal selections, carefully passing over any with wilted greens or dry-looking chicken. After what felt like an eternity, he carried two boxes to the counter, nodding briskly at the clerk behind the counter as he handed him a crisp banknote and left without collecting his change or waiting for the cashier to package the food. If he was going to ensure that he could find Kisara in the crowded lecture room, then he would need to get there at least a few minutes early.

x

Because she often arrived straight from work, Kisara was usually just barely in time for the start of class, but today Seto spotted her silvery-white head at the side of the lecture hall, bowed over her desk as she examined something on her phone. The row of chairs was clear except for her; triumphantly, Seto strode his way towards her, adjusting his grip on the bento boxes. As he approached, Kisara looked up at him, and her eyes glowed with recognition.

"Good morning," she chirped. "You've got your hands full-do you need help?"

"No, I-er." Seto cleared his throat and looked down at Kisara, whose curious expression was focused on the bento boxes in his arms. Unceremoniously, he laid them side by side on the desk next to Kisara's seat. "These are for you. I...Mokuba reminded me that we forgot to prepare a meal for you yesterday. Here's one, now."

Kisara's head tilted, and her wide sapphire eyes met his. She drew in a breath, but before she could speak, Seto carried on, "I wasn't sure what your food preferences were, so one is vegetarian, and the other has beef. You're welcome to either, or both, if you want them." He stared at her unabashedly, awaiting a change in her expression.

The young woman's curious expression shifted to one of amusement, and she retrieved something from underneath her desk. She stood up, holding out a dark blue steel coffee thermos to Seto with both hands.

"I'm a terrible guest, though-I didn't bring you anything yesterday," she pointed out, giggling. "So I made you this at the cafe instead."

She gently pressed the coffee mug into Seto's hands; the steel was cool to the touch, but a faint, sweet aroma wafted from the top of the mug. "It's a salted caramel macchiato-I thought maybe, after yesterday, that you might secretly like sweet things."

She winked slyly at him. "They're popular at Cafe Hana. Nobody will know you're drinking such a frivolous thing, though, in a big cup like that."

Struck by her kindness, Seto sank slowly into the seat next to her, catching the smell of her perfume mixed with the rich smell of caramel from the coffee she had handed him. Kisara watched him intently for a moment longer before reaching to take the vegetarian meal from his desk. The sleeve of her pale purple sweater brushed against Seto's arm as her arms crossed him, and a tingling sensation shot up his spine at the fortuitous contact.

"You can have the beef," Kisara offered, smiling as she slipped the bento into her lunch box. "I didn't have anything packed for today, so I don't know what I would have done without you. You have my thanks."

Seto realized that he was still holding Kisara's coffee cup with both hands. He brought the steaming hot drink to his mouth. The coffee was sweet and mild, and at a perfect temperature-somewhere in the back of his mind, Seto remembered reading that a perfectly steamed and brewed espresso drink should never be scalding hot, and smiled to himself at Kisara's artistry.

"You have a good taste for beverages," Seto remarked, taking another sip of the caramel macchiato.

Kisara smiled knowingly. "Working at a cafe has that sort of effect," she responded cheerily. "I'm glad that you like it." Her voice dropped to a softer tone, and she added, "You know, I would never have guessed that the _great_ Seto Kaiba likes the kinds of coffee that schoolgirls drink, before they get accustomed to the taste of coffee."

Seto's cheeks flushed, and Kisara laughed to herself, coyly covering her mouth with one hand. "You're funny," she added warmly. "You don't have to be so embarrassed all the time, you know."

Her laughter, bright and gentle, rung like wind chimes in Seto's ears. Her voice and her laugh were surprisingly rich and husky for a delicate girl-her voice had a strong timbre reminiscent of the sweet, creamy coffee she had given him. He continued to watch her as she tucked her hair behind her ear and fished for a pen from her backpack, still chuckling to herself about Seto's taste for sweets. Her hand brushed against the bento he had bought for her as she rummaged through her backpack, and she paused momentarily before squaring up to Seto and looking him in the eye.

"With your rank and stature...it's hard to believe you would bring me lunch," she said. A peachy flush spread across her cheeks. "You're a thoughtful friend, aren't you?" She stared inquisitively at him, pressing finger thoughtfully against her lips.

Seto could feel his own face reddening; behind her lighthearted words he could sense that she was beginning to form opinions of him, and the thought of it made his skin prickle. "Don't get used to it," he warned her gruffly.

Kisara laughed, twirling a fountain pen she had just retrieved from the front pouch of her backpack. "I wouldn't dream of it." As the professor put the first slide for the morning onto the projector, Kisara turned her attention towards the front of the classroom.

Though his eyes were focused on the front of the room as well, Seto's mind was preoccupied with Kisara. The warmth and light in her eyes as she spoke to him was something he was wholly unfamiliar with; with her sitting next to him and his stomach full of warm caramel macchiato, it was easy for Seto to imagine basking for all eternity in the warmth of Kisara's light.

She had a kind and earnest presence that beat back the doubts in his heart, which retreated now to the shadows of his conscious. The delight on Kisara's face when he presented her with lunch was intoxicating, and the playfulness in her voice as she bantered with him made his heart feel lighter. Seto was used to feeling passion as a raging fire that was fear-inducingly intense up close, capable of great power along with great capability for destruction; this feeling, though equally intense, radiated a sort of warmth that only beckoned him to explore it further, without an underlying current of danger. Of all of the people he had been affected by in his life, none had had quite the same effect.

Perplexed, Seto tried to turn his focus to the lecture. He had never felt this way before.

* * *

 _Me: thinks about Blueshipping all the time_

 _Also me: is paralyzed by writers block, doesn't update for months on end_

 _Thanks for being patient with me! I'm trying to do better in terms of writing regularly...although writing is just a hobby for me, I still think there's a lot of good lessons to learn from being more consistent with writing, even if you're not 100% sure of where you're going ^^_

 _Also thank you for sticking with me through my erratic posting schedule, if you're still reading! Reviews and messages mean the world to me if you're willing~~_

 _Mei_


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